


Love Song

by CountingWithTurkeys



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: F/F, Horror, Implied Sexual Content, Marceline's Couch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2018-12-04 05:20:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11548317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CountingWithTurkeys/pseuds/CountingWithTurkeys
Summary: The Candy Kingdom is one of the most powerful in all of Ooo, and it's not like Princess Bubblegum is an uncontroversial figure. So how has she survived all these centuries without an assassination?





	1. Sound Check

Night in the Candy Kingdom always struck Jal as quite the contrast. During the day the streets were overflowing with creatures of all shapes and forms made of sickeningly sweet sugar. They would chatter to one another mindless drivel, hocking tacky wares, and otherwise needlessly consume valuable resources, such as air. The kingdom was so picturesque that it was nauseating. Everyone was happy, the atmosphere carefree, the people safe. Not a care in their stupid soft heads.

But Jal knew better. Every demon did. It was an idiot facade designed to fool idiots. The ugly truth that none of these simpletons would ever admit was that a monster lurked among them. It skulked the streets in broad daylight, unacknowledged. It spoke their language. It exchanged pleasantries. At the same time, it also had the ability and desire to cause untold suffering, should such a thing strike its fancy. Powerful indeed, but it was hard to conceive it in the day.

At night things changed. With the streets devoid of sapient life it was easier to pick out the inconsistencies in the kingdom’s idyllic life. The monster no longer meandered the streets, invisible.

Now it slept in a tower. The tallest tower in the tallest castle in the biggest kingdom.

Even a demon like Jal knew about the monster. Everyone in Ooo did. It disguised itself as a benevolent princess, beloved by her people, friend and ally to all like-minded kingdoms. During the day it was beautiful. It would host charity drives, kiss newborn babies - or however these creatures reproduce -, draft treaties, and otherwise play the perfect role as the perfect ruler.

Oh yes, Jal knew better, because the true Princess Bubblegum only emerged at night. It was then that she would shed her facade like a second skin and show the (now empty) world who she truly was. Bubblegum was, a bad person, the greatest open secret in all the land. She claimed complete dominion not only of her land, but the subjects within. After all, she created them, quite literally, in her labyrinth of a laboratory. They were built to her exact specifications, both outside and within.

She relished in her power, sewing life into being using biological materials harvested from her own subjects. Experimenting on them like the pawns they are, mutating and scarring her citizens to fulfill whatever fancy passed her at the time. Terminating any undesirable result, whether or not it lived or felt pain. But the worst part of all to Jal - and he was not alone in this sentiment - was how mindlessly in love with the princess the candy people were. How could they not be? She created them to love her. To serve her. They literal fell over one another to satisfy her sadism, believing her justification that their sacrifices were necessary to better “science”. To better them.

The pink monarch had no talons, no claws, no wings, no armor, but she didn’t need them, now did she? She was frightfully intelligent, and her skills in manipulation were unrivaled. She could create life itself and bend it to her will in one fell swoop. While other monarchs had to balance delicate economies and ecosystems the candy citizens of the Candy Kingdom would always love their royal. No one within the kingdom or without could possibly hope to change that, and Jal had to admit; as much as he hated the woman she was impressive.

But he had a job to do. A very important, powerful, and wealthy client had tasked to murder her, as brutally and painfully as possible (whether they meant it should be painful for her, him, or both, he was unclear). He was to enter the Kingdom, infiltrate the sugary fortress, locate the princess, and end her. To the uninitiated this would seem easy.

He was not the first to be given this task. The princess had no shortage of enemies, and there was no shortage of rewards offered for her pretty pink head. Still, few took the offer up, because something else lurked in the Kingdom under cover of night. An oppressive, suffocating force that could rend souls in twain and turn bodies inside out. No one could quite agree what it was, but one thing was held as unquestionably true: no demon who entered the Candy Kingdom left the same, if they left at all.

Jal was cautious. He had to be. He was small. So very, very small, perhaps the size of a cat. An actual cat, mind you. Not a candy one. A small, blue, unremarkable humanoid demon. Two black eyes, one flat nose, one plus-shaped mouth, curled, convex yellow and black horns, and a dozen claws, perfect for scaling walls. And towers. But Jal was not alone in this mission. As loathed as he was to share in the bounty he very much desired to go home that morning, and so he had brought two allies, a crew that had successfully worked together maybe a hundred times before.

The first was Mik, a very large, muscular, yellow demon. His four black eyes seemed to reflect light. Unlike Jal, Mik was not nude, for he was dressed in the shell armor of a past consort of Turtle Princess, the spoils from a job well done. His arms terminated in shovel-like claws, used for burrowing below obstacles, while his legs were absurdly squat to provide the front with driving force. It would be these claws that would allow the group access to the kingdom.

The final member of their entourage was Richo, who clutched a beige leather bag containing trinkets for bribing less savory guards. The youngest of the three, Richo was not yet used to invading entire kingdoms with little more than a couple of misfits. He looked quite similar to Jal, though his blue was closer to purple, and was nude as well. This was to accommodate his “wings”, which were in actuality little more than a thin membrane that traveled the length of his sides, beginning at the wrist and ending just above the knee. To fly he needed to extend himself to his full length and width, and though he looked quite silly he was also the only one of the group with the ability to fly.

This feature was vital to the plan.

The first stage went off without a hitch. The Gumball Guardians stupidly blew bubbles into the night sky while the three ne’er-do-wells tunnelled beneath the city, Mik at the front digging, Jal consulting the map generously gifted to him by his employer (though how she got it remained a mystery for another day), and Richo at the rear. He had volunteered to “stand watch”, but of course the real reason was that he could not use his wings in the small tunnel and felt quite vulnerable and out of place. Jal couldn’t blame him; although they had been on many jobs together Richo almost never left the Nightosphere if he could help it, and the surface world was still strange and unnerving to him. But he was a confident assassin. They all were.

The trio breached under what appeared to be a large fruit stand, the sight of the bananas almost costing Richo his lunch. Jal forcefully pulled him away, glanced around to be certain they weren’t seen, then leaned into Richo’s comically oversized ears.

“You’re up.”

The younger demon nodded, spread his wings, and took to the sky while Mik and Jal proceeded towards the tower, slowly but confidently. It would be Richo’s job to keep an eye on the party from above, because while the candy people themselves were weak simpletons it would be idiotic on their part to ignore the tales of the monster that supposedly made the darkened streets of the Candy Kingdom its home. Richo would keep Mik and Jal safe, alerting them to its presence before they suffered grievous injury. Or death.

That was the plan, anyway. What was that pre-War expression about the plans of mice and men?

The ground-dwelling demons didn’t make it out of the market before they were suddenly and overwhelmingly filled with dread. Jal slowly scanned the immediate area, but could find no source. Nothing moved. There were no new sounds. Everything was as it was. Besides, Richo would have raised the alarm if the “monster” were anywhere near them. Meeting Mik’s eye, he signalled for them to continue.

It was waiting for them when they cleared the last of the fruit stands.

Jal noticed four things simultaneously.

The first was that the creature really was a monster, even by demon standards. It was lanky, at least three times the height of any of them, and staring, still and silently.

The second was its color, which was less “black” and more “a void entirely without any light produced on a visible spectrum”. No physical characteristics could be deduced; aside from the implicit understanding that he was looking at another demon Jal couldn’t tell its gender, age, or even what kind it was. He could ascertain that it appeared bipedal, had frighteningly large claws with long, sharp claws. He could also venture that the large, thrashing shadows behind it were really large tendrils, but anything more was only a guess. He tried not to think about the implication of that.

The third thing he noticed was Richo, trapped in the monster’s left claw. It was large enough to crush him whole, but its bulk was wrapped around his mouth and neck, silencing him.

The last thing he noticed were the only two contrasts to the void: Red eyes, pin prick in size, boring into Jal’s mind. And long, white, needle-sharp teeth stretched into a terrifying grin.

The two stared at each, but Jal did not know for how long. He wanted to find Mik, but hypothesized that if he broke the beast’s gaze something terrible would happen. Why he thought that he would never be sure, but it held him petrified. He began to sweat. His opponent remained stoic, still grinning that unsettling grin. Realizing that he was supposed to be the group’s leader he took a deep breath, swallowed, then found his voice, trying and failing to keep it steady. Where there was once dread there was no terror unlike he had ever known, and he served under Hunson Abadeer.

“...Greetings, fellow demon. I am Jal. You hold my companion, Richo. We are joined by our friend Mik. I assume your quarrel with us is…”

He blinked, suddenly unsure as to why another demon would attack him in the Candy Kingdom of all places. Had he unwittingly invaded its lair? Brought it harm in a previous mission? Insulted its mother? He was saved by Mik, who he realized, with a jolt, had been standing next to him the entire time. Had he been that focused on the enemy?

“I’m afraid that we’re not sure why you’re so cross with us. We mean you no offense, and I’m sorry if we’ve trespassed.”

At this the creature finally moved, tilting its head as its focused shifted to the yellow demon, still clutching Richo.

“We have one purpose. We’ve been hired to remove Princess Bonnibel Bubblegum from power. She is a sociopath and a tyrant, and Ooo would be better suited without her-”

“We’ll leave!” It was a squeak at best, but an audible squeak. The void beast looked at its claw, loosening just enough to allow Richo air and speech. “I’m sorry we trespassed, we’ll never do it again! Here! I have gold! Lots of really nice things! You can have them!” The winged demon was beginning to panic, thrashing in an attempt to reach his bag and offer every bribe he had. Jal’s heart, as evil as any demon’s, broke. His friend, going mad with desperation, trying to appeal to the better nature of an impassive beast, visibly delighting in its sadism, grin only widening as its teeth seemed to extend-

His scream was cut short by the void demon. Two elongated fangs pierced Richo’s neck. Blood spilled out of the young demon, and with mounting horror Jal realized that the beast was putting enough pressure on his neck to slow the blood flow, but not stop it. It wanted Richo to bleed out slowly. To suffer for whatever transgression they were guilty of. Once again, red eyes met Jal’s black ones, daring him to step in and be the leader he claimed he was. Unable to watch, Mik turned and vomited, for while he had seen some messed up stuff in the Nightosphere he had never seen anything like this. Richo's panicked gasps turned into strangled gurgles, then pathetic wheezing. He couldn’t watch as the monster ended its game by crushing the blue demon’s throat with its fang, dropping him unceremoniously, almost without thought.

“RUN!” It took Jal too long to realize that had been him shouting, and by then Mik had already made a break for it. Jal didn’t hear the monster move. He didn’t try to. He didn’t want to focus on it. He didn’t want to remember Richo’s lifeless corpse, discarded like trash. He didn’t want to imagine what would be in store for him if  _ it  _ caught him. “Come on, Jal,” he told himself, “Just run. You have to make it out. You have to tell everyone what it is. You know what it is. You have to tell them. Just run. Runrunrunrunrun-”

Mik’s body fell out of the air, landing in front of him with a dull ‘thud’, forcing Jal to come to a dead stop. His hand covered his mouth as he struggled, and failed, to process the sight before him. His turtle armor was missing, and instead deep lacerations decorated the yellow demon, weeping deeply. His legs were shredded, his feet had been ripped off, only to be shoved into his mouth and down his throat, shovel-first. His friend’s body twitched twice before falling still. He dropped to his knees as the void horror silently landed behind him, dark black bat-like wings he had missed entirely folding behind its back. Even without facing it red eyes pierced into his core. He stood, trembling as he turned to face that which had apathetically murdered his friends.

“...Why? Why would you do this?”

The monster tilted its head again, slowly turning its gaze to the tallest tower in the tallest castle in the biggest kingdom before returning to him. He felt his heart drop.

“You’re… protecting her? Like her pet or something? You’re-”

Jal knew only death.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“PRINCESS! PRINCESS!”

Princess Bubblegum sighed, closing her book to place it delicately on her night stand. The sun was barely up and she had hoped to have a few minutes of peace and quiet before she even considered subjecting herself to today’s duties and trivialities. Her previous day’s trip to Turtle Princess’s library had yielded a truly algebraic haul, but evidently that would need to wait because Finn had chosen this moment to come screaming into her private chambers.

“What the flip, Finn?!”

Jake wasn’t far behind and answered for his brother as Finn tried to catch his breath. “It’s messed up, Princess! There’s a demon! And it’s like-”

“You have to come see! Someone- a demon’s body- outside the gate”

The princess narrowed her eyes. “Show me.” Giving Finn barely enough time to avert his gaze she ripped off the royal night gown (though not literally, she was rather fond of it), dressing in her most royal of pink dresses. A classic outfit to be sure, but it seemed appropriate given that this may constitute a threat against her kingdom. After slipping her crown on she allowed Jake to pick her up, grab Finn, and stretch them clear across the kingdom and outside of the gate. What she saw made her pale. Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Finn, go get Marceline.” Fortunately for the human, he had the vampire’s number on speed dial. Her cave was quite a ways away, after all.

It took almost an hour for the undead woman to make her appearance, dressed in grey shoes, torn blue jeans, and a black and grey striped shirt. She was shielded from the sun by her sunhat and black parasoul and did nothing to mask her yawn, frowning when she saw the other monarch, landing at her side. “What the dip, Bonnie? It’s way past my bedtime!” Before she could respond Jake tugged her sleeve, pointing at the spectacle that drew them.

There was Jal, or at least what was left of him. His eyes were missing - gouged or clawed out, neither Finn nor Jake wanted to know. His right arm had been ripped clean off and delicately placed at the exhibition’s base, his left attached only by sinew. A horn seemed to be ripped out. At first it seemed his legs had been left undamaged before Bubblegum realized that they were not only switched, but seemed to be sewed back on. He was propped up by a piece of wood, no doubt from a nearby elm. Marceline seemed almost impressed.

“Sorry to wake you up Marcy, but I figured if demons are involved you’re the most qualified to provide insight into the situation.”

The vampire nodded absently, floating around the body curiously. When she got to its backside she didn’t bother to hold in her laugh, covering her hand with her mouth. “Dudes! This wood plank is shoved up straight up this guy’s-”

“MARCELINE!” Finn’s shout was so high and desperate it squeaked. “You can’t say stuff like that with a  _ lady  _ around!” He not-so-subtly motioned to Bubblegum. With a smirk, Marceline landed, giving an exaggerated bow before the apparent gentle dame, speaking with an over-the-top affect. “Have I and my distasteful ways offended m’lady’s sensibilities?” The princess shot her look, pointedly ignoring her as she resumed the task at hand in examining the body. “Is it anyone you know?” Marceline straightened and shrugged, “Could be a Nightosphere demon? I know some of them have trying their hands at being bounty hunters. Daddy really needs to stop letting them see surface-world movies. Gives ‘em ideas.”

Finn scowled. “It’s right outside the Kingdom! It’s like they’re trying to threaten you, PB. Show you their power and junk.” As he spoke the princess approached the demon’s body, examining it as best she could without touching it. After an almost full agonizing minute she pulled back, shaking her head. “I don’t think so. Do you see the way it’s oriented? The body is facing  _ away  _ from the castle, like a warning. Many pre-Mushroom War buildings would be decorated with statues of monsters facing away as a warning against creatures or people with evil intent.”

While Finn and Jake seemed to consider this hypothesis Marceline made a show of loudly yawning, floating on her back as best she could while minding her parasoul. “That sounds very interesting Bonnie, but can I go back to bed now?” After receiving a resounding no, she groaned. “Why not?” The princess sighed, exasperated by the absurdity of the situation. 

“Because you’re going to help me move the body back to the castle-”

“I’m going to do what now?”

“-While Finn and Jake investigate this situation.”

Finn puffed up his chest, smacking it twice with his fist. “We’re on it, Peebles! Let’s go, Jake!” No sooner had the boy jumped on the dog’s back they bolted into the forest, driven by a new challenge that almost certainly had a new villain to slay. Once they were out of earshot Princess Bubblegum turned to the floating royal. “Before we move the body I was hoping to speak to you. I don’t want to disturb this scene until we need to, or we risk destroying or losing vital evidence. You’re the only demon I know, so I was hoping you would be able to assist.” Marceline blinked, not prepared for that line of reasoning. “Uh.. sure, Bon. Your room?” Receiving a curt nod as her response she scooped Bubblegum up, one arm supporting her knees while the other supported her back. She didn’t need to be told which room belonged to the candy princess. She knew. On her way she swung by the now-immaculate market, swiping an apple. The princess glared, but said nothing.

Once they reached Bubblegum’s bed chamber and she was gently lowered to the ground she set to work soundproofing the room as much as possible. Marceline leisurely drained her apple as she watched her princess work. She had the most adorable look of focus mixed with frustration as she set to work closing all the doors and windows in her rooms. She was a woman on a mission: No one would witness or hear the conversation that was about to occur. Finished, she turned to her vampire, who locked her gaze as she carelessly discarded the now-grey apple on to the floor.

“Marceline, why did you do that?”   
  
“I was done with it.”   
  
A frown. “I meant the demon, Marceline.”

A smirk. “So did I, Bonnie.”

Bonnibel sighed, feeling everyone of her over 800 years as she sat on her bed. Almost immediately she felt the weight of another shift the bed before a pair of strong - albeit cold- arms came from behind her, holding her against the vampire. She sighed again, but this time for a very different reason, relaxing in the embrace.’

“I had make a point, Bon. That’s the second assassination I’ve stopped this month. Some people didn’t take the whole Goliad thing well. You’ve got some obsessed enemies. I had to make sure they got the message.”

“Did you have to be so distasteful?”   


She could hear the smirk. “Aw, don’t be like that. I needed to let the half-demon in me stretch its wings. It was… what was that word you called it? Cathy-tic?”

“Cathartic.”

“Yeah, it was that.”

The candy princess let her eyes closed as she turned to her side, cuddling against her lover. “And what message did you send them?”

“Oh, just a reminder that I may not act on it or even admit it publicly, but I’m still one of the most powerful beings in Ooo and I will not hesitate to murder literally every would-be hero and assassin in increasingly more creative and barbaric ways.”

“Marceline, that’s sick.” The admonishment didn’t reach her tone of voice, which had become more controlled and focused. She stood from the bed, crossing the room to her wardrobe before beginning to remove her dress. The vampire raised an eyebrow. “Not feeling the Most Royal Dress today?” Bonnibel shook her head. “Not feeling clothes today.” Though she did slip the nightgown back on before returning to the bed. Seeing her confused expression she smirked. “Come to bed, Marcy. I can’t imagine how tired you must be after last night.”

Marceline was nothing if not obedient and began removing her shirt. “Three of ‘em this time, Bon. You’re pretty popular. Couldn’t find out who hired them, though. Got a bit caught up in the moment.” She let herself be pulled to the bed, barely having enough time to remove her shoes and pants.

Bonnibel almost purred. “I can think of a better moment to be caught up in.” Marceline made a noise of sheer surprise when she was roughly pulled on top of her girlfriend. Once she recovered she didn’t bother hiding her grin. “What, me brutally murdering my father’s subjects makes you hot for me? That’s not healthy, Bon.” Her response was a scoff, followed by an all-too-gentle kiss. “No, Marcy. I missed my vampire. She goes away for days at a time and returns on a whim. It makes me sad and lonely.” She took a strand of inky black hair, tucking it behind the demon’s ear, delicately brushing the outer shell to elicit a slight shudder. “But… I know she’s still out there, even if I don’t see or hear her. She’s still there, protecting me. And that makes it all better.”

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

If Marceline’s inability to stand was any indication Princess Bonnibel Bubblegum would be sleeping quite soundly that evening. The vampire was sore in places she didn’t know she had, making the dressing process quite arduous. Finally victorious, she made sure to tuck her beloved in and provide one final kiss before opening the bedroom window, taking off. Bonnibel wouldn’t appreciate her skipping out on the rest of the night, but it was almost daybreak and Marceline had been up almost two days, and it would be even longer if she let herself share her bed. The princess was too damn tempting, and she knew it.

She made it home on autopilot, anticipating an early night. There was just one thing left to do.

After finally entering her home she immediately locked the door, then grabbed a heavy, bloody bag from the side of the door. After a quick peek to make sure its contents were still together she grinned, then turned to her red, horrendously uncomfortable couch. For a brief moment she paused, lovingly caressing its cushions.

_ What is wrong with this couch? _

_ Ehh, that made my teeth hurt. _

_ Oh yeah. Sorry, I don’t ever really sit on there. _

Her ministrations suddenly stopped and she delivered a swift and powerful kick to its underside. There was the satisfying sound of wood scraping against wood, signalling that the latch was open. Slowly, Marceline lifted the middle cushion and peered inside the large box that impersonated a couch.

She was greeted with the sight of her treasures. Dozens of them: Horns, mandibles, claws, you name it. Each a piece of a demon she had slain in service of her princess, stolen as trophies. Gleefully, she reached into the bag and added three new ones to her collection: Jal’s horn, a large shard of Mik’s shell armor, and Richo's brown hide bag. After rearranging her items to ensure the box would close securely she reassembled her faux couch. As she began to make her way up her bedroom ladder she gazed lazily around her living room, absent-mindedly wondering where the next couch should go.


	2. Temperament

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marceline and Princess Bubblegum have a symbiotic relationship, founded on mutual trust, love, and bloodlust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't originally planned to write an addition to Love Song, but it proved way more popular than I anticipated. Hopefully this chapter is just as enjoyable. I'm bad at prequels, but this idea popped in my head and I couldn't resist.

Bonnibel Bubblegum liked to think of herself as clever woman. A patient woman. A strong woman. A magnanimous woman. A woman whose strength was evident in her posture, her speech, her demeanor. In short, Bonnibel Bubblegum thought very highly of herself, and in her opinion she had every reason to. Not even two hundred years old and her accomplishments were staggering in number and magnitude. She had sewed life into existence with only her own mind and hands. She had founded - literally built - an entire kingdom from the ground up, and while it was still quite small that feat wasn’t. Men, women, children, and everything in between across Ooo knew all about her.

Well, not  _ all  _ about her. One did not keep a tactical advantage by exposing all of one’s secrets. Secrets were the most precious of treasures. Properly wielded they were the most devastating of weapons, capable of bringing the most powerful to their knees. Like any other treasure they were something to be hoarded, guarded closely, displayed privately for the trophies they are. They represented contingency plans. Implicit threats to discourage would-be enemies of the state. Spoils of war. In a word, they were power, and Bonnibel Bubblegum loved power. She savored it. The thrill of the control it granted her. The elation of knowing that it makes her effectively untouchable. It made even a woman made of candy both intimidating and, she liked to think, awe-inspiring.

Bonnibel Bubblegum knew all sorts of secrets. She even had many of her own, of course, though good luck finding them, because the woman who recently crowned herself a princess was disciplined, a trait she found lacking in so many others. To divert suspicion she would, on occasion, strategically “let slip” a secret, usually a pretty little lie meant to divert attention from her machinations. Because if Bonnibel Bubblegum was anything, it was a machinator. And a scientist. And a princess. In that order.

Her demeanor was carefully crafted to disguise all of this, all of her. She walked with immaculate posture, head held high. She never fidgeted. Her voice was always carefully controlled, even when she was angry. Especially when she was angry, because mastery of the self was a perfect strategy to display one’s power. It was essential that she display this power, both subtly and often, because unlike some other kingdoms and monarchs she could mention her power was no illusion; she could, and would, demolish anything in her way.

The wall was the first thing she ordered the construction of for her fledgling kingdom. Before anything else she needed to draw the line in the sand and tell the world that everything that lied within was  _ her’s _ , and her’s alone. Not even two hundred years old, Bonnibel Bubblegum knew she was already making enemies, just by virtue of her success. Her palace wasn’t even fully operational yet and she already heard the rumors that spread to all corners of the continent. Obsession was a growing force, and some wanted her, be it as a trophy or just dead. But she wasn’t scared. Not by a long shot.

So fearless was she that she confidently strolled through the streets of her new kingdom in the dead of night. Even now she was plotting, though this time it was rather innocuous, only deciding the layout for her new world. These things required careful planning. Should residences be spread throughout the kingdom, or clustered conveniently in one area? How far should the market be from the groves? Did the kingdom need a dedicated hospital, or would a clinic suffice? Would these decisions be sustainable in the long-run? For that matter, how large should she allow her kingdom to grow? These were just some of the many thoughts that plagued her, but no one was around to see her utterly focused expression, and she felt more than secure in letting herself block out the world in ponderance. And so Princess Bonnibel Bubblegum found herself strolling the ‘streets’ of her home, clothed in her magenta dress, form-fitting lab-coat, hair tied back, glasses folded securely in her pocket.

Her pace was leisurely. Around her the wall signaled the size of her domain; she had had it built well-beyond what was realistically necessary, but she wanted to allow room for growth. For now the area was largely empty, save for the construction equipment. She had designed that as well. She had designed everything. Around her castle caramel and toffee cranes rested with the rubble, sugar cube bricks lay in way waiting to be made useful. Rudimentary rope and pully systems hung from wooden rafters, which in turn were covered by sheer black cloth for the express purpose of blocking out the sun. Her private rooms were the second to be completed and featured a spacious bedroom, an equally spacious bathroom (complete with hot tub), and a wardrobe already filled with clothing from across the continent. There was also a back room, hidden behind the wardrobe, which featured no windows and was bare, but only she and one architect were aware of its existence, and he was sworn to secrecy. Although not even halfway constructed it was evident that the castle was going to be large. If Bubblegum’s calculations were correct it would be the largest castle of any kingdom, which was hardly an accident. After all, some displays of power needed to be more obvious than others.

Truth be told, there wasn’t much to look at in the outside world, but she had needed a break from her work. Although not much had been built outside yet the castle itself was a different story. Already it featured a state-of-the-art labyrinth of a laboratory of her own design, housing equipment and chemicals both rare and dangerous. Fully equipped, it featured almost half a dozen steel beds (restraints included, of course), over a dozen tables scattered across the room were almost overflowing with tools and machinery, a beautiful new chalkboard on the south side, countless white cabinets and drawers lining the walls, and a large all-purpose sink in the northwest corner. One small window above it acted as her only outlet to the outside world, and she predictably kept it locked at all times. On an isolated table in the middle of the room sat a massive computer, surrounded by ingot. She had taken her break while trying to create a brand new metal to be used in the construction of a gift of sorts. The process was promising, but slow, and her eyes had started to burn.

The outside world was quiet in the dead of night, but she was used to that. It reminded her of her beloved laboratory, and allowed her to bask in her continuing progress undisturbed. Here she was, the leader of a new world. “ _ My _ world,” she smugly remarked to no one in particular. This was always the remedy to her lab-related frustrations. Prowling the streets, appreciating not only her hard work but that of her creations as well. “My  _ children,” _ she continued to smugly remark to no one in particular. This was her ritual; exhaust herself in her lab, leave to appreciate her developing world, then return to the lab more determined than ever. Satisfied, she nodded to herself and made her way back to her castle. She was pumped, ready to unravel the mystery of how to construct a new alloy to her highly nuanced specifications. She expected a long night, perhaps dozens of failed trials, but she also expected to make leaps towards her goals. As she entered the castle, nodding to her fresh-faced private guard, she began to strategize. Oh yes, she had plans for triumph.

What she didn’t plan on was the dead demon laying on the table once-bare table closest to her computer. When Princess Bubblegum saw it her lips pursed in a tight line and she stared at it accusingly. It was a stark red and smaller than she imagined demons to normally be (though, admittedly, she didn’t exactly see them often), just a hair bigger than the large rodents that inhabited the nearby woods. It even had a long tail that terminated in three hooked tentacles hooked with tiny nails. It was scaled like the rest of the body, reminding her of a strange cross between a rat and a lizard. It appeared to have four eyes, two on each side of face, flanking a bulbous nose, but they were closed and blended into the flesh so well she wasn’t entirely sure that was accurate. Its hands were humanoid, five pointed fingers, though comically short. At least two fingers looked broken, bent at odd angles. Based on its legs, which were also humanoid and featured two pointed toes, it was bipedal. Or at least, it would be, if one wasn’t visibly crushed.

Its torso featured one large laceration. It was deep, and was still bleeding onto her nice, shiny steel table. As a matter of scientific curiosity she crossed the room to examine it further. The wound was almost surgical, stretching across its torso to reveal the humanoid entrails within. She could see what she assumed to be its stomach, possibly its intestine, but beyond that she couldn’t hazard a guess. She only knew one demon’s physiology, and that was under vastly different circumstances. Her thoughts strayed along these lines but were rudely interrupted but a soft groan. The demon was alive. Bubblegum took a deep breath to steel herself against this realization, eyes closing. She didn’t need to look at the tiny window to know that it was open.

“What the flip, Marceline?!”

Without hesitation two garnet eyes, slitted against the laboratory’s dim light, manifested in front of her, their owner lounging in the air, upside down, hands cradling the back of her head, less than an arm-length away. “You summoned?” It was a purr, she was smirking, and with a frown Bonnibel realized that, technically, she had. She didn’t respond right away, taking a precious moment to gather her thoughts. At the far end of the vampire she could see red boots and solid black pants that were distractingly tight. As a top she wore a red and heather grey flannel shirt. Even in the dim light Bonnibel could see the small splatter of blood on her shoulder. Her hair was loose, flowing, and in clear disarray.

“Marceline, why is there a half-dead demon on what was previously my unblemished steel table?”

The vampire’s eyes lit up, dilating when she met her princess’s gaze. Her smirk became a grin. “I’m teaching my dingus to hunt!” Bonnibel blinked. Whatever she had been expecting, that certainly wasn’t it. For a few moments they just stared at one another, giving the candy girl time to assess the woman in front of her.  She was clearly pleased with herself, that much was obvious, but she also seemed… off, almost radiating eagerness. Her eyes seemed almost overly focused. Her fangs were clearly elongated, albeit slightly. Was she growling or purring? Her hands had been replaced with pointed talons, though she gave no indication that they were hurting her head. Her legs shifted anxiously. Even her hair seemed to twitch curiously.

“You’re doing  _ what _ ?”

Marceline rolled her eyes before her body fell suit, landing gracefully. How she could roll out mid-air Bonnibel wasn’t sure, but that wasn’t her concern at the moment. “I’m teaching you to hunt!” “You eviscerated a demon and left it on my desk.” “Like a present,” Marceline nodded, agreeing. Irritation crossed the princess’s face. “Explain your logic, Marceline.” At this the older woman seemed to beam, clearly taking it as praise. 

“Look nerd, you’re a smart woman, but being a brainlord isn’t going to help you against what goes bump in the night.”

“And you would know because you’re one of those things?”

“Exactly.”

Bonnibel sighed, pinching the spot where her nose met her face. “You’re giving me wrinkles, Marceline. Right here.” She shook her head, dropping her hand in the process. “Let’s look at this logically.” The vampire opened her mouth, but closed it again when she was shot a pointed look. “I know, not your strong suit, but focus.” When the half-demon didn’t respond Bonnibel was satisfied to continue. “What would possess you to suddenly drop a half-dead demon on my desk in the middle of the night?” The smirk returned. “Well, they’re harder to find during the day, and I’m usually asleep.” “You’re not helping, Marceline.” “I’m not trying to, Bonnie.”

The princess closed her eyes, took a deep breath, exhaled, and opened them again when a thought suddenly struck her. “...Marceline, where did you get a demon?” The smirk dropped, and the vampire almost seemed to freeze. “Uh…” Realizing she had no response, it was Bonnibel’s turn to smirk. Her tone became syrupy sweet. “Marcy, tell me where you got the demon.” Now she squirmed. “...Would you believe that I found him in the woods?” “No.” The tone was kept syrupy sweet. She knew how it unnerved her, evident when the vampire’s claws returned to hands. 

“Would you believe-” 

“I would believe the truth.” The truth. Marceline’s one non-solar weakness.

“Well…” She glanced away, scanning the lab with her peripheral vision, looking for anything to distract the other monarch.

_ Caught her.  _ Bubblegum’s smirk became smug. She reached out and took the taller woman’s chin, turning it until they faced one another. Realizing that she was still avoiding her gaze she sighed. “Look at me, Marcy.” Never one to refuse a direct command the vampire gulped lightly, doing as she was told. “Good. Now-” She was interrupted when Marceline suddenly whipped her head to the table, a low growl in the back of her throat. Before she could admonish her Bonnibel saw why; the small demon had regained consciousness and was pitifully attempting to drag itself away. 

With no hesitation the talons returned and she slammed a clawed hand down onto her victim. She squeezed, quickly flipping him over to meet her eyes, once again slits. Her grin was predatory, her voice a controlled, dangerous warning. “Did you just  _ move _ ?” The demon, frozen in obvious terror, didn’t respond. “Why do you think I broke your leg? It’s so you  _ don’t move _ .” She didn’t wait for a response. In an impulsive act of anger she squeezed, dragging her claw slowly down his chest, fresh blood flowing freely. She traced the talon to his arm. Her eyes flashed and the arm was ripped off, slowly. The sinew stretched, breaking inches at a time. The bones, petite as they were, snapped loudly. The fingers spasmed as the nerves were severed. Despite the demon’s small size and previous wounds its screams were loud and desperate. In a mocking gesture Marceline laid the arm across the demon’s lower eyes, taking care to make sure they were covered entirely. The remaining arm reached, but the shock paralyzed it.

Princess Bubblegum watched, fascinated. She knew Marceline’s half-demon heritage and vampiric nature meant she had the potential for violence, but she had always been so careful to keep it out of view of the princess. The fact that she was lapsing was striking, and she watched the exchange. “Is that why you broke his leg?” The vampire didn’t look away from her prey, nor did her expression change. Focusing now on her lover, however, her tone normalized. “Well, yeah Bon. You’ve never hunted before. I can’t have him getting away from you, can I?”

The younger woman placed her hand on the tense claw. “Marceline, put him down, I doubt he’s going anywhere, and I’m not done with you.” The demon was dropped, the claw once again becoming a hand. “Good. Now, where did you get him?” Marceline groaned, having hoped that line of conversation had been dropped. Realizing that stalling was getting her nowhere she looked around the lab, trying to pick her next words very carefully. “Well… it’s like this…” Once again, Bonnibel took her lover’s chin, turning so that red eyes met green, but said nothing to interrupt.

“...I went back to the Nightosphere.”

“Willingly?”

She squirmed. “Yeah.”

The candy monarch moved her hand from her girlfriend’s chin to cup her cheek. The vampire closed her eyes, leaning into the touch. “Why did you go back?” She nuzzled the hand, her discomfort overpowered by the sudden affection. For a long moment she didn’t respond. When Bonnibel didn’t push the issue she lifted her head, meeting her eyes willingly. “To send a message.” The pink princess raised an eyebrow, a silent inquiry for clarification. “You’re building one wild kingdom here, Bon, and I know you’re getting off on your power trip, but you’re playing with some dangerous forces. You’re young, you don’t know what’s out there. I do, and I’ve seen some stuff that would really make you say ‘like what?’ Dude, I’ve seen a guy turned inside out. I can’t let something like that happen to you.”

“So you brought a demon back to Ooo as a lesson in self-defense. That’s quite a bit of forethought, especially for you.” Marceline rolled her eyes. “Come on Bon, I’m not always an impulsive idiot. I can have my moments.” Bonnibel nodded absently. “I suppose I’m rubbing off on you.” Before she could fully appreciate the double entendre her lover grinned, her hand twitching. When she realized why her eyes narrowed. “Marceline, don’t be distasteful.” “But I’m so good at it.” Fair enough. “So why this demon in particular?” The half-demon tilted her head to the side. “Oh. Well…” She nervously rubbed the back of her head. “I was kind of hungry and almost lost control…” The shame obvious in her voice, she couldn’t meet the princess’s eyes. “After I slashed him I remembered that I promised you, so I thought, ‘hey, might as well make the most of this’, brought him back, and here we are.”

Bonnibel frowned deeply, and in response Marceline’s eyes darted to the window. But she wouldn’t fly away. They both knew that despite her growing panic Marceline had one specific order: Do not fly away without Bonnibel’s leave, and so even though every instinct told her to make herself scarce she could hear the firm command in the back of her mind.  _ Stay put.  _ She never was sure if it was her voice or her lover’s, but she supposed it didn’t matter.

“Your new diet is proving difficult?”

“It’s just… an adjustment. You were right that I can get all of my nourishment from drinking red, but it’s a hard habit to break, Bon.”

“Didn’t you stake all those vampires for doing exactly that?” It was less of an accusation and more of a question.

“Well, yeah, you know my vow. I couldn’t let them hurt the humans. But there aren’t any humans anymore, and demon blood…” Her gaze turned back to the demon. Her eyes dilated, her hand twitching to a claw and back. It was still alive, and though her candy sense of smell picked up nothing she imagined that Marceline’s heightened sense were all too aware of the fresh blood. She could see it in the breath she didn’t need, in her unblinking stare, in the soft growl. Bonnibel admired her restraint.

“Marcy, look at me.” The demon slowly turned, and she continued once she saw her eyes focus. “I think I see what’s happening here. Do you know what catharsis is?” Marceline shook her head. “Catharsis is the process of releasing repressed emotions, thereby providing release.” When her girlfriend stared blankly she considered the most delicately way to phrase her thoughts before continuing. She knew the queen well, and especially enough to know how sensitive this topic was. To help ease the conversation she kept her tone controlled, calm, and gentle. “I have an idea.” Her hand came up again, cupping her cheek. When garnet eyes slid shut she moved her hand slowly to trace her ear, eliciting a shudder.

“I understand your concern for my safety. Were our roles reversed I imagine I would have the same trepidation. I respect that you’ve seen and experienced things I can’t imagine. You want to protect me, and I appreciate that fact. We both have our strengths, and one of the things I admire most about you is your loyalty.” When she scritched behind a grey ear she heard a soft purr.  _ Stay with me, Marcy. Calm.  _ “...But you can’t change what you are.” Her eyes slid open and she tensed, but didn’t move. “So I have a proposition.” A raised eyebrow. “You’re not going to be happy unless I’m safe, are you?” Bonnibel didn’t wait for an answer, the question was purely rhetorical. Instead she offered a soft smile, followed by a soft kiss. Marceline blinked.

“...So keep me safe.”

Marceline blinked again. “...What are you asking me to do, Bon?”

“I hypothesize that you need to purge your more violent urges. I’m not sure if you’ve even realized it Marcy, but you’ve been twitchy all night. If I didn’t know you as well as I do I’d go so far as to call you unstable. You’re clearly anxious, you’ve either been staring or avoiding staring at the demon all night, and I can see the way you’ve been looking at me. You’ve been quicker to shapeshift than is typical for you, and your canines are quite apparent. In short, at this moment, I’m very aware that you are both half-demon and queen of the vampires.” Marceline stiffened, immediately alarmed.  “Bon, you know I wouldn’t-”

“I know you wouldn’t hurt me Marcy, don’t worry. That’s not my point.” She relaxed, slowly. “The solution is simple. You can keep me secure in a way I doubt any person or creature in Ooo possibly can. In the process, you’ll rid yourself of your more… destructive compulsions. I imagine it will also help you adjust to your new diet as well, by curbing your bloodlust.” _And no one will know you're safeguarding me. The most precious of secrets._ The princess paused, letting the weight of her words settle on the other’s shoulders. “What do you think?” The pause was long, heavy. Finally, at last, the vampire smirked. “Well, you’re the brainlord. If it keeps you safe I’m game.” They both relaxed, unaware of how tense they had become. “Good girl.” Princess Bubblegum turned her back to her lover to fetch cleaning supplies when her gaze travelled back to the poor demon. When she realized he was still alive she smiled slyly, the syrupy sweet tone returning to her voice.

“Oh, and Marcy?”

“Yeah?”

“The demon is red.”

Bonnibel didn’t see her girlfriend’s eyes light up. But she did hear her fangs plunge into her victim, the strangled gasps of her victim and, finally, the silence return to her precious laboratory.


	3. Off-key

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real talk: I said to myself, 'if I'm asked five times about the Phoebe thing I've mentioned in Rehearsal twice now I'll start working on that plot'.
> 
> Then the same person asked me about it five times.
> 
> I wasn't specific enough.
> 
> But a promise is a promise!
> 
> Content warnings:
> 
> Arguable Mind Games  
> Several Implications of Lady Sexing

_ I thought this place was supposed to have defenses up the wazoo? _

The creature was waiting for her in front of the kingdom’s gate: a creature of the void whose skin seemed to devour color and hope and everything good, whose very presence choked the air with dread, stood impassively before the entrance to the city. 

_ Oh, there they are. _

Phoebe cursed her own vulnerability. It was an understatement to call the thing unsettling; if she had skin it would surely be crawling, if she had a traditional heart it would be pounding. It probably wasn’t a stretch of the imagination to assume that a lesser elemental would have extinguished just from fright alone. It was perhaps twice her height and lanky, making it almost impossible to tell how long its limbs were, where they began and ended, or even how many it possessed. Its grin was unsettling, all needle-sharp white teeth, too many to count and honestly, the traveller didn’t want to try that hard. Its red eyes were pinpoints and seemed to stare into her soul, so piercing that she caught her gait slowing prematurely. The young monarch didn’t want to look, but she forced herself to, knowing that if she could just reason with it-

She frowned, mentally correcting herself.  _ Not it. Who. And she’s why I’m here. Focus, Phoebe. You got this. _

Focusing on controlling her breath, both to regulate the intensity of her flame and, hopefully, hide her fear, the fire elemental took stock of her greeter.  _ Don’t look at the whole, look at the sum of her parts.  _ With that she began the mental dissection. The skin was the most unsettling feature, she decided; if she looked directly at the body it seemed to almost shimmer in and out of view, almost seeming to merge with the darkness of the world, if only for scarce moments. The teeth she already had the pleasure of acquainting herself with, and so she averted her gaze from them, trailing up towards the red eyes.  _ Do they even have pupils?  _ By the time she realized that meeting its stare would prove to be a horrible mistake it was too late; she was locked, entranced, her mind unable to comprehend what it was seeing. The mental overload was sudden and immensely painful as she unwillingly tried to make sense of what she was seeing.  _ Are those pupils? What shade of red is this?  _ Her breath hitched in her throat as she realized that she was trapped in that hypnotic stare, unable to stop her mind from focusing, unfocusing, and refocusing again, on whatever it was that stare demanded of her.

The demon tilted its head and she felt her hands pull the reigns of the fire wolf she was seated upon, literally halting her progress by her own hand. It was humiliating to say the least. With a deep breath Phoebe steeled her resolve against whatever power her opponent was exerting, unable to break away, but refusing down to her core to give in to the panic she could feel growing in the back of her mind. On a different day she may have broken, may have surrendered to it. But today was not such a day. Too much had happened already, and breaking down into hysterics would make  _ her  _ far too happy. Underneath her she could feel her wolf lower its snout to the ground and start to sniff. With no rider to offer correction it slowly moved forward, sniffing intently, eyes downcast as it followed whatever trail it had occupied itself with. Soon Phoebe found herself sitting with conflicting emotions. On the one hand, her steed had brought her within arm’s length of the imposing beast, and every instinct in her was screaming to run. On the other hand, she knew of only a handful of beings that could break the protective nature of a Flame Kingdom royal mount; it could only be someone they had strong familiarity with, and there was only one demon that had, historically, spent that much time in her kingdom. Her suspicions were confirmed when a large claw ending in terrible, sharp talons lifted slowly before being dropped gently on the canine’s head. For a brief, horrible moment Phoebe’s mind flashed with the image of that same claw slicing down, taking off her friend’s head, its body falling to the ground as its precious life force seeped below. She had heard stories told in hush whispers of what the demon guard was capable of, had seen drawings of the ‘messages’ it left behind to enemies of the kingdom, and knew that she herself was no friend to the kingdom’s tyrant. To her immense relief the wolf merely sniffed the claw happily, sensing no danger to itself or its mistress.

“So, it is you.”

It took Phoebe a moment too long to realize she was the one who had spoken, and by then the demon - or, should she say, half-demon - was shuttering in what she suspected was a snicker. Without warning her trapped mind was released; her mind abruptly cleared and she took a deep, the feeling of foreboding vanished, and she took a deep, shuttering breath, just to prove to herself that she could. Her eyes pressed closed to allow her better focus on normalizing her flame, and once they opened again she found that her foe had dropped all pretense. The black skin was now grey flesh, the taloned claws calloused hands, the disturbing grin two elongated fangs, the red eyes slitted and garnet. Wings folded, tendrils vanished. Now the beast was shorter - though not by much - and floating, arms crossed and smirking, axe-bass strapped to her back: she was now face to face with Marceline the Vampire Queen in her true form.

The two stared, silently appraising one another. Without her guardian form guise the immortal was dressed in heavily torn black jeans, her top concealed by a red and tan jacket with an ‘M’ emblazoned on the left side. Her hair was a mohawk now, flanked by shorter black hair, and for a brief moment the flame monarch thought she saw a thin, almost wiry piece of metal somewhere near or around her neck, but when she failed to find it a second time she dismissed the observation. The vampire’s hands were encased in black fingerless gloves, which tapped against her knee as she sat in the air, one ankle thrown over the opposing knee, red boots swaying gently. Phoebe had seen no reason to change from her earlier adventure and was still garbed in an off-orange dress lined with soft pink trimming, deep orange pants, and dark pink boots that seemed red against her low flame. The decision of whether or not to wear her crown was one she wrestled with through the entire journey from her homeland before finally deciding to keep it on, hoping it would give her the confidence to face down the horror that lurked in the Candy Kingdom. In case she had been wrong about that horror’s true identity, or if knowing it would protect her at all.

“Flame Princess, right?”

_ Here it goes.  _ Phoebe took a deep breath and prepared to deliver her carefully crafted speech.

“Y-”   
  
“It was pretty obvious.”

Phoebe stopped and waited for the queen to continue. When she didn’t the younger monarch started again…

“I-”

“Because, you know, you’re made of fire.”

...Only to be interrupted once more, resulting in a soft growl of frustration. Marceline didn’t bother to hide her smirk.  _ Stay calm, Phoebe. She’s just trying to get a rise out of you. Don’t let her bait you.  _ But exhaustion was starting to catch up to the young woman and she was absolutely done with mind games for the day. Perhaps taking pity on the girl, or perhaps simply out of boredom, the older woman finally engaged her in an actual conversation. “But that doesn’t explain what you’re doing here, little one, so far from home.” That was all the opening she needed.

“I had to talk to you.”

Marceline lifted an eyebrow, tilting her head to the side. “Me? Is that why you came riding up here on a wolf in the middle of the night when it’s pitch black out? You’re made of fire, kid, I could see you coming from miles away. Literally.” Okay, so maybe Phoebe stood out a  _ little  _ bit. The half-demon wasn’t exaggerating much; it was probably close to midnight, and with the heavy cloud cover and such a distance from the bright lights of any metropolis a normal person would have been blind. Phoebe could only guess how badly she stuck out. Fortunately, that was the idea. “That’s exactly why.” Marceline shrugged, shifting position to recline in mid-air. “So let me get this straight. You left the safety of your kingdom made of fire, completely unescorted, to come to a borderline-enemy territory, chasing down a monster that plays with its food, in the blind hope that its true identity is one of the most powerful creatures in Ooo, and now you wish to engage this monster in a friendly conversation? Well, here I am. Speak.”

Phoebe didn’t, not at first. When she put it that way this entire idea seemed downright silly, but the young princess knew that if this conversation went well she would leave this cursed land with a new, powerful ally. If it went really well she would leave this cursed land with  _ her  _ powerful ally, which would be a moral victory. The idea almost made her smile, though actually doing so would betray her motive, so she kept that action in check. No, this discussion warranted the utmost care. It would be a dance, requiring care, poise, and delicate adherence to a strict formula. Unfortunately, though, it seemed that Marceline didn’t want the younger woman to lead.

“Let me guess. Princess Bubblegum did something you don’t like and now your pride is bruised?”

She said it with such mirth, such dismissal that Phoebe could feel her cheeks heat up and her expression morph into a scowl, betraying her true purpose. There was no sense hiding it now, the half-demon clearly knew what was up, or at least knew enough to indicate that this was an established behavior pattern of the other princess. The fire elemental’s temper flared before she could get the best of it, her flames with it. “Your princess tried to wreck my kingdom and waste my people!” 

“Oh? What’d she do?” Her tone seemed an odd mixture of curiosity and, Phoebe dared to hope, concerned.  _ Okay, maybe she doesn’t know yet.  _ This encouraged her. Maybe the vampire wouldn’t approve of the candy monarch’s actions. Maybe the rockstar wasn’t as under a candy spell as she feared. Maybe, she thought wryly, the half-demon would be the reasonable one of their dyad.  _ Only one way to find out.  _

“She tried to kill us! The entire kingdom! She got the Ice King to almost freeze us to death with a fake cold snap. When none of us could solve the problem she made me beg for her help! She even gave me a list of stipulations, like I should have the honor of the Great Princess Bubblegum grace us with her algebraic knowledge. Then, when she  _ graciously _ accepted my humiliation, she tried to get in my brain to gather intel in the disguise of being my friend. When I had no choice but to reveal some of my kingdom’s vulnerabilities  _ because she blackmailed me  _ she destroyed some of my culture’s most sacred items because she got paranoid that they could be used against her! It didn’t matter that they’re important to us! It didn’t matter that I saw my people get sick and die, or that we’ll never recover those pieces of our history! She just wanted to usurp my power and undermine my authority!

Marceline scratched her chin thoughtfully. “Yeah, that sounds like PB.”

Phoebe couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Many suspected that the vampire was secretly whipped, an utter thrall of the candy monarch. What Phoebe didn’t expect was for the apathetic tone of voice cementing just how deep a thrall she was, because Marceline sounded not only unsurprised but uninterested, as if Phoebe had just described a poorly written movie with a predictable ending that the half-demon had already seen a thousand times before. Soon her disbelief gave way to disgust, then anger. She clenched her jaw, watching the woman before her offer a half-shrug, as if to say ‘that rascal, but hey, what are you gonna do?’.  _ Oh, you’ll see. No, you’ll help me. _

“You’re not… surprised? Like, at all?”

Marceline shook her head, stretching her limbs. “No, that’s just the way she is. Always has been, for centuries.”   
  
“How does that not repulse you?”

That finally got her attention. With a loud almost over-dramatic sigh the older monarch sat up mid-air and regarded the younger woman with the most thoughtful expression Phoebe had seen yet. She seemed to be analyzing her, almost searching for the answer for some hidden question. After several long moments she shook her head slowly, offering the same smile the fire princess had often seen mothers offer to young children upset that they could not engage in some simple game or activity. “You’re so young, kid. Like a little ember, and your kind don’t live long to begin with.”

Phoebe felt her temper flare, her body going with it once more. Her wolf looked up, alarmed and almost thrashing in panic. The princess quickly dismounted, giving her friend the freedom to roam nearby, which it then promptly used to curl up against a particularly comfortable rock. “What the stuff is that supposed to mean?!” Marceline rolled her eyes. “How long have you been a ruler, Flame Princess? A hundred years? Fifty? One? You don’t have the experience she does.” The queen continued before she could be interrupted. “See, here’s the thing, kid. When things go well… when you’ve got lots of a food, your people are happy, there’s no disease… when there’s no natural disasters, nothing going  _ and staying  _ horribly wrong it’s easy to rule. People adore you, other kingdoms admire you, they want to be your buddies. It’s easy to make promises and keep them, and it’s super simple to make everyone around you happy because you don’t have anything to lose.” As she spoke her expression hardened. “But when things go wrong you’re tested, and so is everyone else around you. That’s when you find out what kind of person you really are. And for you, it’s what kind of ruler you wanna be.” 

Phoebe spoke through gritted teeth. “Didn’t you flippin’ hear me? She  _ made  _ a fake cold snap! It killed-”

“Is there a cold snap right now?”

That gave her pause. “Wait, what?”

“Is there a cold snap right now?,” Marceline repeated, that hardened expression never faltering.

“...No,” the flame princess began cautiously, “once PB got what she wanted she called off the Ice King and it stopped.”

At the name ‘Ice King’ she thought, just for a second, that she saw the vampire’s eye twitch.  _ Interesting... I wonder what’s up with that.  _ She filed that away for later inquiry when the undead monarch continued. “So your crisis lasted what? A day?”

“I guess, but-”

“Uh uh.” She held up a finger to indicate that her turn to talk was over. “You dealt with one crisis that lasted one day. I’m sorry that some of your peeps got wasted during it, but hey, you guys have this weird obsession with weeding out the weak anyway.” When Phoebe took a sharp intake of breath Marceline smirked and continued. “Now try to think about something like that happening  _ all. The. Time.  _ Because it’s easy to pass judgment when everything is super-fun, but Bonnibel has been doing this biz for, like, five hundred years. She’s seen some pretty wicked stuff. She’s had to make some really hard decisions about the Candy Kingdom, and sometimes she has to do some messed up things to stop even more messed up things from happening. You’re judging her actions because you don’t understand. You  _ can’t  _ understand. You want my opinion? Stop getting in her way before you get yourself and everyone you care about hurt. Because she’ll do it.” Her tone dropped at the end as her lecture turned into advice tinged with concern, something Phoebe’s mind immediately latched onto.  _ More importantly, you just gave me the opening I needed. Thank you. _

“And what do you do? When she’s rulin’ it up I mean.”

“Me?” She shrugged. “I chill, I make music, I scare innocent townspeople.”

“Charming. I mean, what do you do for the kingdom?”

A black eyebrow rose. “Maybe you missed me when you came barging in here? I was the kick-butt void demon that almost tore you in half.”

Phoebe repressed her smile successfully. “Is that all you do, Marceline? Guard the gate?”

“Eh, I do lots of stuff.”

_ Like Bubblegum?  _ She didn’t say that part. “I get that part. But what exactly?”

Marceline snorted. “You just told me that Bonnibel thought of you highly enough that she went way out of her way to break your toys. I’m not going to give you kingdom secrets, FP. ”

_ Glob it. Alright, let’s try this.  _ “That’s not what I mean. I think you put the camera up. The one that PB was using to spy on me. We found it inside of Cinnamon Bun, in what he thought was his nose.” She rushed to continue before the vampire could cut her off with what would probably be a series of insults aimed at her dear regent. “At first I had no idea what to make of that. I mean, CB isn’t the brightest, but he’d definitely understand if someone came at him with a big black box. Then I thought, ‘well what if whoever put it there was invisible’?”

“...Seriously? That’s all you got? Weak.”

“Well, it’s not just that. I didn’t realize it at the time, because I was too busy trying to save my people, but when I asked Bubblegum to come help me out my fire wolves should have reacted to her. They’re trained to respond to any potential intruder, but they didn’t respond to her at all. I know the last time she visited my kingdom-”  _ to lock me in a lamp  _ “-was many years ago, so her scent wouldn’t be familiar to them. But what if they were smelling something - or someone - besides her, someone they’ve smelled before and whose scent was prevalent enough to confuse them about who she was?” The question was rhetorical, of course, and Marceline’s only response was to smirk. 

“What are you actually doing here, Flame Princess?”

“That’s what I came to ask you.”

Marceline’s look of surprise was genuine. “What, you’re suddenly concerned about what I do with my free time? That’s pretty weird.” She chuckled. “I didn’t know you had those kinds of feelings for me, FP, but you should at least buy me dinner first.” Phoebe ignored her own flush.  _ She’s just baiting you girl, don’t give her the satisfaction.  _ “I’m not going to get involved with Candy Kingdom politics. Well, I mean, I don’t want to. But  _ if  _ Bubblegum had a consort that also had her own kingdom… well, that’s a matter for public record. Other kingdoms would need to know about a potential alliance.” A flash of something dangerous lit behind demonic eyes before it was expertly repressed. “It’s like you’re trying to start something, Flame Princess. Like I said, you’re out here, unescorted, and I’m gonna bet no one knows where you are or else they’d be here trying to protect you from what goes bump in the night.” Although the vampire didn’t move she did tense as a silent warning. “Am I right?”

Phoebe held up her hands. “Woah, girl. I’m not here to do anything. Whatever you have going on with Bubblegum is your biz.” Marceline looked unconvinced. “I just want to know why.” 

“Why what?” Phoebe sighed.  _ Here goes nothing.  _

“Why the two of you?”

“That’s a little personal, kid.” The edge had yet to drop from her voice.

“Not like that. We’ve never formally met, but I know some things about you. You ganked tons of vampires for trying to hurt humans. You’re next in line to take over the Nightosphere, but you don’t really seem to care. You party and play music. I know you’re invited to royal gatherings, but when you do attend you’d rather play pranks than contribute-”

Marceline held up a hand. “Stop me if this sounds familiar. I’m a troublemaker that likes to kill things, but somehow I’m less messed up than Bonnibel, and you think telling me this is gonna make me go ‘oh no way, she must be really messed up if she can even beat the Vampire Queen, I should rethink my relationship junk with her!’. Am I right?”

“No.”

The vampire wasn’t expecting that one, and the edge in her voice was replaced with intrigue. “Yeah? Now I’m interested. Keep talking.”

“Well, where is she?” When the intrigue began to give way back to an aggressive posture she held up her hands again. “Not a real question, just making a point. She’s not here. I don’t care where she is, point is, she’s not here right now.” Marceline didn’t contest the very obvious conclusion. “I just have a question. When she came to my kingdom earlier, were you with her? I mean, I invited her as an allied monarch, but if anyone besides her knew her true intentions it would be you, so it would make sense that you’d tag along, just in case her plans went awry. I’m just cur-”

Marceline snorted derisively, crossing her arms with a sly smirk. “I’ve got a life outside of Bonnibel, FP. I have my own stuff going on.”

The younger monarch resisted her own smirk.  _ Gotcha.  _ “Your own life with your own stuff going on, but here you are.” She thought she saw her companion’s eye twitch during her slight pause. “...Yeah. Here I am.” Phoebe let that realization sit with the vampire for several moments. If her sources were to be believed both Marceline and Bubblegum had been together in some capacity for hundreds of years, and so logic would dictate that the undead queen would only be continuing their relationship - whatever it was - if it was objectively mutually beneficial. But the flame princess had heard enough stories about the other woman from Finn and tales from villages across Ooo, and had suspicions of her own.  _ You’re not a logical creature, are you? Let’s find out how deep in your mind PB is.  _ Her next words were chosen very carefully. “I get what you do out here. It makes sense to me. You’re nocturnal, and I bet Bubblegum has a lot of enemies-”  _ or a lot of paranoia  _ “-since, yeah, she’s been a ruler for a really long time. You’re right, I can’t really know what that’s like. If I had a-” _ courtier  _ “...friend or whatever as strong as you with nothing better to do I’d totes ask her to protect me... and my kingdom.” 

The pause had been deliberate, a way of testing which of those entities the vampire would react to.  _ Interesting. She didn’t correct me.  _ That tidbit of information was filed away. “I mean, it’s a lot better than having you as an enemy. I know you’ve been whatevers for a long time, so my guess is that it’s also a good way of making sure you don’t turn-” Marceline rolled her eyes. “Kid, Bonnibel knows I’d never hurt her. Try something else, because you’re starting to bore me. Let me guess… she’s using me? Is that your next try?” Although she would never admit it, Phoebe was impressed.  _ Wow, she even has you answering my accusations for her. You’re in there deep, aren’t you PB?  _ “As I said, I don’t know what you two are, and I’m not going to ask. You’re obviously close enough that my fire wolves picked up your scent on her.” She sighed. “But I’m not here about her. I’m here about you.”

“Yeah? What about me?” It both sounded like and was a challenge.

“You’re dangerous.”

Marceline did nothing to hide her derisive laughter. “ _ That’s  _ what this is about? I’m not going to wang your kingdom apart.”

“Please let me finish.”

The request was said with such conviction that the queen stared in amusement before bowing mockingly, adopting a fake affect. “As m’lady wishes.” To her disappointment, Phoebe continued without rising to the bait. “You’re basically a living weapon. That’s what Finn said you told him. Right?” Hearing it from the older woman’s own mouth was vital to her plan, and the fire elemental was relieved when she obliged. “Phft. There’s really no ‘basically’ about it. I can shapeshift, fly,  _ summon fire _ , heal through anything, move things with my mind… you know, typical weapon stuff.” Her smirk was smug, and Phoebe made it a point to ignore the not-so-subtle jab about her being a weapon as well. This only further disappointed the half-demon, who made no effort to hide that fact. “What’s your point?”

The younger monarch pretended to spend a moment collecting her thoughts, as if she hadn’t spent the entirety of the journey to the Candy Kingdom knowing exactly what she was going to say.  _ You got this, girl.  _ “It’s funny that you should mention fire, since it’s a topic I know a lot about.” Marceline rolled her eyes, and Phoebe chose not to notice. 

“I think there’s something you and I share in common, Marceline.”

“Awesome fashion sense?”

Phoebe chose to take that as a compliment. “We’re both beings made for destruction. Literally. We were literally made to destroy things. My father wants me to be evil, like he is. But I was too powerful for him, so he had me locked in a lamp. If the legends about the Nightosphere are true you would have been responsible for ending the world, if the humans hadn’t done it for you. Regardless, you’re still meant to take over the Nightosphere itself, if you ever decide to. I thought Finn was exaggerating a bit when he called you one of the strongest beings in Ooo, but I asked around and read up on demon lore and the history of the Nightosphere and… apparently that’s a rather apt description.”

The vampire’s smirk was self-satisfied. “It’s true, I’m awesome, but what does this have to do-”

“You’re like me. You’re like a flame. You can be destructive, but you can also be something positive. You know, burn down a village, or toast candy, or light a cave. Sound about right? I mean, I’ve heard about the adventures you’ve had with Finn and Jake.” The vampire gave a non-committal shrug, but didn’t argue with the analogy, and so Phoebe continued. “But fire can’t just exist on its own. It needs to be sustained. Someone needs to stoke it so that it doesn’t go out, but they also need to tend to it so that it doesn’t devour everything. If that someone gives fire a stick the stick will burn to ash. If they douse the fire with water the fire will die. If… if they take that fire and let it into the forest the forest will be obliterated.” 

She kneeled down to pick up a sprig of grass, holding it up for the vampire to see, resisting the urge to smile when she saw that she had Marceline’s full attention. “My kind need to be taught how to tend to our own flames when we’re young, because otherwise we’ll burn out or we’ll burn everything to the ground, like I almost did. Fire needs to be directed like that or it loses control.” Genuine sadness seeped into her voice. “But… fire doesn’t always know when it’s being directed for detrimental purposes. It just goes where it’s told until it’s unleashed, then it’s on its own. Usually to die, or to hurt everything around it. It doesn’t mean to… but that’s the very nature of fire.” The sprig abruptly burst into flames, leaving only dust in mere moments. When Marceline lifted her gaze from the grey remains Phoebe caught it. “So I guess what I’m asking is… who’s directing your fire?” The question was asked with such gentle sincerely that the queen was caught off-guard for a moment, but it was long enough for the princess.  _ There it is. _

Garnet eyes narrowed. “I can direct my own fire.” The response was a nod. “True. You’re way older than I am, and you have way more experience with your abilities, and I’d bet you know yourself way better, too.” She didn’t miss the flicker of uncertainty. “I know you  _ can  _ direct your own fire, Marceline. I’m just asking if you’re actually the one doing it.” Without waiting for a response the elemental turned towards her sleeping wolf, letting out a sharp whistle. The canine yawned, rising slowly into a stretch. When it bounded over to the humanoids it took a moment to sniff Marceline once more, wagging its tail when the grey hand absently rubbed its head, the burns healing within moments and without her indicating that she even felt them. Instead, the older woman’s focus was entirely on the flame princess as she mounted her steed. Once settled the elemental offered her companion a sad, genuine smile. “I guess the question you need to ask yourself is… you promised Bonnibel that you’d never hurt her. Did she promise you the same?”

Before Marceline could retort the wolf turned, leisurely returning to the path whence it came. The undead rockstar watched, head tilted, to see if the princess would give one last look, one last indicator that she given her speech and asked her questions just to egg her on. When she failed to turn the vampire let herself grin. “You’re going to make a great ruler one day, Flame Princess.” Now the shorter woman turned, looking over her shoulder with her own smile. “Phoebe. My name is Phoebe. And you will too, Marceline. Once you let yourself be.” With that Phoebe returned to the road, steadily returning home. As she departed Marceline flew to the sky, watching her retreat with sharp eyes. Once the orange flame had all but vanished from her vantage point she landed exactly where she began, outside of the Candy Kingdom gates, not entirely sure if she should be smiling or frowning.  _ Did she… was I just challenged?  _ All it took to clear that thought from her brain was to turn behind her, her view shifting to tallest tower in the tallest castle in the biggest kingdom.

Typically, the tower would be illuminated in some fashion, at least by candle light, for this was the tower of Princess Bonnibel Bubblegum, an obsessive insomniac with the propensity to work for days at a time. Even when she moved her workspace to her lab - conveniently connected to her rooms through a passageway only two beings could traverse - a candle was typically left either on her desk of window, a silent signal to her paramour as to her current location. The tower was dark now, a rare sight that meant the princess had actually decided to sleep that night, like a normal person. Marceline wasn’t surprised; if the conversation she had just engaged in with Phoebe was any indicator of her lover’s day it must have been exhausting. From what the vampire understood the candy golem had returned to the castle and promptly disconnected her beloved spy system. When her queen had found her hours later she had been told the story of her day, including Phoebe’s accusation about Bubblegum’s moral ambiguity. She frowned at the memory, recalling how Marceline had held her girlfriend as they lay on her bed, cool hands offering comfort in the form of ridding a pink body of its incessant tension:

_ What happened to the spy system? _

_ Phoebe found out. She thinks I’m a bad person. ...Am I a bad person, Marce? _

_ I don’t think so, Bon. You just did what you thought you needed to to keep everyone safe. Yeah, it probably went a little far… but it’s just a mistake, you know? It’s easy for her to judge. She hasn’t had to deal with the biz you have. _

Marceline had managed to work out most of Bonnibel’s shoulder knots before she finally succumbed to sleep. Deciding that this would be a good night for a patrol the vampire had tucked her mate into bed and headed to the kingdom’s streets, making a brief pitstop in the now defunct spy room to render the system unusable, courtesy of a well-placed sledgehammer. She had begun her watch the same way she always did, but this experience was new. Her first instinct had been, of course, to kill Phoebe as a potential threat, but decided that now would be a terrible time for regicide. When the fire elemental began her well-rehearsed speech the vampire’s second instinct was to toy with her until either she got bored or the princess gave up.

The actual outcome of her impromptu visit was one she hadn’t prepared for, but she knew what she had to do.

Unseen by Phoebe - or anyone really - Marceline’s jacket concealed a small transmitter in the collar. It was originally intended for use during her performances, but of course Bonnibel had outdone herself and both accidentally discovered just how sensitive the microphone was, just how clear the recordings were, how it was able to pick up even the softest moan-  _ Not now, Marceline. Focus. This first. See where she hid that tape later. It’s probably in her lab. I mean, if I- lumps, Marceline, focus!  _ Unzipping her jacket gave her access to the small transmitter. She often wore it when out on patrols; it would provide a live feed of her efforts straight to the spy room, where Bonnibel would often keep watch. She would claim it was to observe the number and type of assassins, but of course the vampire knew the real reason: Bubblegum liked to watch her murder would-be heroes in her name. Knowing she would never admit to it never stopped Marceline from teasing her about it, though. But right now the transmitter wasn’t providing a live feed to the spy room because there was no more spy room. Instead, Bonnibel had tampered with the transmitter, providing it with a way to record the vampire’s mission for her to watch at a later time. Primitive - by her standards at least - but effective.

Marceline unclipped the small transmitter from her collar and turned it over in her hand. It was so small, slightly larger than a large coin, and almost as light. It was also entirely black, giving it no distinguishable characteristics; should any enemy happen to stumble upon it they would have no idea what they were looking at and probably leave it alone. But Marceline knew what she was looking at: the record of everything that had just happened, every word, every sentence, contained in a handy trinket. Enough to provide Bubblegum with the evidence she needed to justify to herself the danger of the Flame Kingdom. What she would need to damn Flame Princess.

An undead hand continued to turn the device over. Garnet eyes stared at it impassively for over a minute, not blinking. Then their owner took a deep breath she didn’t need and exhaled, the impassive stare not dissipating.

_ Sorry, Bonnie. _

Grey fingers wrapped around the gadget, crushing it into fragments.

_ But you don’t need to know about this one. _


	4. Broken String

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real talk: So apparently my deal is just writing experiments lately? This wasn't meant to be chapter 4 of Love Song, and to be honest I'm not sure how I feel about it, but I hit a road block with the actual chapter 4, so I wanted to give something new a try, try to grow more as a writer before I start on Opening Act officially. Look, all I know is that I have three chapters of A capella in the works, a mini-series half-written, and a couple more plots I'm playing with, so lots going on here.

She sensed her before she saw her. Not that it was objectively hard; the older woman wore her heart on her sleeve and was unashamed of that fact, allowing the younger woman to predict her moods, her logic, her emotions with frightening accuracy. It was something the budding princess never understood because it seemed like such a liability. But then… the older woman was one of the strongest beings she had ever met, perhaps one of the strongest in all of Ooo; she could afford such a weakness. More than anything she was loyal, she was protective, she was even loving, at least to the candy golem.

She was also the last thing Bonnibel Bubblegum needed at the moment.

It was cruel, really. She finally had the rare opportunity for a night of peace and quiet, something much appreciated following a day that was equal parts rewarding and taxing. But then… all of her days were like that as of late. Her castle’s construction was coming along beautifully, and though she was behind schedule in filling the radioactive river with candy there was still noticeable progress. There was only so much she could ask of her children, who were still so young, so helpless. They wouldn’t fail her, but they still needed gentle guidance, guidance she was more than happy to provide.

Bonnibel Bubblegum liked to think of herself a patient woman. A wise leader. She knew she was a technical wonder-child, and she knew, just  _ knew _ , her intellect could not and would never be matched. She was a hard worker, and a gifted scientist. Conceited? Hardly. How could it be conceit if it was true? But, perhaps above all, Bonnibel Bubblegum was a proud woman. And why shouldn’t she be? She was building a kingdom with her own bare hands, had figuratively birthed a whole new species and imbued them with her own will in one fell swoop. Everything was designed with frightening efficiency, and though there may be hiccups or delays on the odd occasion everything was under strict control.

Except.

“Close the door,” she whispered. It was drenched in irritation and she would do nothing to hide that fact.

There was no literal door, of course. Not yet, anyway. Bonnibel’s bedroom was still largely unconstructed and for now she slept in her half-formed tower, within arm’s length of the sacred tree she was centering her fledgling castle around. Prior to her guest’s arrival Bubblegum had been enjoying a cup of warm tea on her bed, which was, arguably, little more than a cot that seemed designed specifically to be uncomfortable. But that was alright, it was all she needed right now. One day she’d have a luxurious, plush bed, decorated with the softest blankets and warmest sheets, but that would be a treat for Future Bubblegum. As would a ceiling. For now, the enormous blackout curtain her guest was using to cover the gaping maw of the exposed tower would have to do, and with a sigh she rested her pink cup at the small ledge that was little more than exposed blue stone, hoping that it wouldn’t be knocked off in the ensuing… conversation. It was a beautiful porcelain thing, a soft shade of taffy pink with a lavender lace design around the rim and base, veins of royal purple almost dancing around the curved handle. It had been salvaged from the ruins of a strangely intact shop she and the other woman had found in their travels together, and she was rather fond of it.

Were it anyone else entering her makeshift home she would feel dreadfully exposed in her drab grey nightgown, built more for function than form. That would change one day as well. On the opposite side of her temporary room sat a small chest that housed her day outfits and what few accessories she possessed. At least, the ones she could risk her children finding. She sat on her makeshift white cot, atop her faded moss green blanket, in only her nightgown, her eyes struggling to adjust to the sudden darkness. Yes, were it anyone else she would feel vulnerable. But for all of her monstrous tendencies the other woman would never hurt her. She knew this just as much as she knew she herself would one day be the most feared and respected princess to ever hold a throne. With a sigh, she closed her eyes, but only briefly, and when she opened them once more she was face to face with Marceline Abadeer, queen of the vampires, last of her kind, and heir to the Nightosphere - though, admittedly, Bonnibel didn’t know much about that last part. Yet.

She appraised the floating woman, who was doing her best to appear impassive, but oh Bonnibel knew better, could easily sense the crackling energy underneath, because as loving and protective and loyal as Marceline was she was more or less a feral animal and a cryptic paradox, a vampire half-demon who drank the color red rather than precious blood all the while having the propensity and delight to torture and maim those she felt looked at her funny. A woman over two hundred years old, mind forever cemented at the age of 19, when she had been Turned. A half-demon who struggled with humanity. A struggle she didn’t always win. A struggle she didn’t always  _ want  _ to win.

She looked well that evening, despite her attire; torn black jeans, a black and red flannel shirt that did nothing to hide the maroon stains, black combat boots caked in a rust-colored substance. Her garnet eyes were slitted against the darkness, her precious bass that was really an axe strapped to her back. Her black cloth wristband’s array of steel spiked studs matched the four lining the bridge of her left ear, strangely immaculate. But she was tense, almost twitchy. Focused. Too focused.

The only part of her untainted by her journey was her hair, which was still in the same tight braid Bonnibel had weaved for her just before she left. Odd, given that she had been gone for over a week, but then Marceline had always been vain about her hair. Bubblegum shot her a pointed look, and after shooting her one back the older woman relented to the unspoken ‘request’, touching to the ground. It was something Bonnibel often requested in her presence and the other woman’s submission - as reluctant as it was - emboldened her. It wasn’t an order or a requirement or anything else so ludicrous, but it was part of their dance, reminding the vampire that she was more than half her bloodline, and as much as her garnet eye twitched they both knew she would be lost without the structure the scientist provided, without the emphasis that she was a civilized creature. Above all, it was a silent reassurance of their bond, their commitment, of how much they meant to one another.

Still, it would have been foolish to approach this situation with anything but caution. Marceline was a dangerous woman, and while her protective nature was a welcomed trait 99% of the time she lacked the strict control over her emotions that Bonnibel possessed. The soon-to-be-princess knew that the queen enjoyed the structure and rules she provided - deep down, at least, where secrets slumbered - but sometimes, such as now, she needed to be reminded of that fact. And so they watched one another, imploring the other to speak first. Because the one who spoke first would lose, relegated to the submissive position. True to form, it was one the musician fell into readily.

“So I’m gone for a couple of weeks and you’re already replacing me, Bonnie?”

Bonnibel pursed her lips. She wasn’t sure which was more infuriating: Marceline’s jumping to conclusions or her spying on her. After brief deliberation she decided it was the former, simply because it was undeniable that the onyx-haired woman’s spying had saved her life and limb on more than one occasion. But there was a fine line between being a ‘protective’ and ‘possessive’ girlfriend, and it was a line Marceline either didn’t understand or flippantly ignored.  _ Which will it be this time?  _ “You’ve been spying.” It was an accusation, but a calm one. They both knew the answer, and the vampire wasn’t an idiot.

“Kinda my job, Bonnie.” There was a defensive undertone there. Or was it a challenge? Bubblegum knew there was only one way to find out.

“Has it ever occured to you that, while I appreciate your desire to protect me, you’re bordering on being obsessive?”

Marceline snorted, a strangled mockery. “ _ Obsessive _ ? Wow, already bringing out the big guns? Did I strike a nerve, Bon?” There was that challenge again, teasing that was less teasing and more an implicit insult, and the candy woman frowned. Handling Marceline was more art than science, but a skill she knew it was necessary for her to develop. In the best of times the older woman was her greatest asset, her lover, her best friend, the person who had literally moved mountains for her. But then there were her pesky emotional outbursts, less because she was selfish and more because she was horribly insecure.  _ Perhaps you’re the one with the struck nerve, Marceline. _

“No, Marcy, but I already know where this is going, I’m quite tired, and I’m going to prevent this argument by informing you that you’re overreacting.”

Marceline raised an eyebrow, but stayed quiet and for one brief, shining, moment Bonnibel hoped that meant she had diffused the situation. Woefully, it didn’t. “So what’s its name?”

Bonnibel sighed. This was going to get ugly. “ _ Her  _ name is Shoko.”

“Shoko? Is that the girl or the cat?”

Bubblegum scowled.  _ Now she’s just being childish.  _ “Marceline, stop it. I understand that you’re concerned-”

The half-demon almost choked on her laughter. “ _ Concerned _ ? Come  _ on _ , brainlord, think about it. She shows up out of nowhere, says she doesn’t know anything about you but tries megahard to get on your good side, wants to get all involved in your biz, moves fast to do it, and that doesn’t seem a little weird to you?”

The shorter woman narrowed her eyes. “Marceline, she was attacked right outside my walls by the Bath Boy Gang-”

“Yeah, that’s real convenient. So the girl  _ with a tiger  _ couldn’t handle some tranch in a towel-”

“MARCELINE!,” she hissed. Her mocking was over-the-top, even for her. “What is your deal right now?”

  
“My  _ deal _ ?,” she growled. “Bon, there is no way…” She took a deep breath. Held it. Exhaled. Marceline didn’t actually like fighting with her lover - not like this anyway - but the younger woman was still so ignorant of the way the world really worked, and as much as she loved her it got taxing, and protecting her was often a full-time job. Bonnibel was just so sure of her big brain, and her ego wouldn’t even consider the possibility that she was being duped, even when it was mondo obvious.  _ But that’s what I’m here for. I gotta see the danger for you sometimes, Bon.  _ “Think about it, nerd. It’s just way too perfect. She’s playing you.”

“Or she’s just a poor girl who’s had a hard life-”

“Cool, so what’s that gotta do with you?,” she replied icily. 

Bonnibel clenched her blanket, teeth almost grinding. The vampire could undoubtedly hear her candy heart pounding, and the younger woman could almost feel Marceline’s dead blood boil. It had been a long time since the two had actually gotten into an argument, but in truth tensions had been running high for quite some time; the fledgling kingdom just demanded so much of Bubblegum’s attention that, admittedly, she had been a tad neglectful, something Marceline never failed to be sensitive about due to that horrid insecurity. Still, it was unusual for her normally insightful girlfriend to behave so rashly. If anything, it would make more sense for the vampire to find in Shoko a kindred spirit, another child abandoned in a harsh world, and the words tumbled out of her mouth before she could think better of it. “Would you listen to yourself? I’d think you of all people would know what it’s like to have a jacked up childhood-”

This was not the right thing to say, and the young scientist knew that the second those traitorous words left her mouth. As close as the two women were Marceline considered her past - especially her childhood - a sore wound, and Bonnibel had effectively poked it just to prove a point. The guilt made her flinch, internally at least. Logically, she knew, the vampire was just trying to protect her; the one-day-would-be-royal may not be privy to all of her past, but she had learned enough to know that her girlfriend had lost everyone and everything she had ever cared about rather traumatically, and repeatedly. To make matters worse she had never learned to cope with that perpetual sense of loss and so deemed everything even the least bit suspicious to that which she loved as a threat; Shoko had just ended up on the wrong side of that equation.

Hidden in the darkness the half-demon’s eyes pinned and she shape-shifted thoughtlessly as she reacted automatically to a threat that she  _ knew  _ didn’t actually exist, but when had that ever stopped her? Her fangs elongated as she grew a sharp muzzle with two grotesque and yellowed tusks, her hands becoming grey claws with fierce talons, her height growing until she towered over the candy golem. Her roar, her reaction to that thoughtless comment, was loud enough to have surely woken all of her candy children, but Bubblegum herself merely crossed her arms defiantly, not the least bit afraid of the beast before her. Marceline had once vowed to never use her immense strength to hurt the younger woman, and though she may be capricious and emotional the rockstar took promises with deadly seriousness. Green eyes pierced into demonic garnet ones, not in challenge but as a reminder that as ferocious as the vampire was Bonnibel was immovable unless she otherwise chose. 

By the time Marceline was done erupting she was panting, not because she needed breath but because even she knew she needed to calm down, needed to do the impossible and control her rage. The two were still so new to one another and the concept of a long-term relationships - at least by the standards of immortals - and the last thing she wanted was to drive Bonnibel, someone so pink and perfect, away. When she felt her nerves steady she regained control of herself and assumed her normal form, fists clenched from the effort of quelling the beast within that wanted nothing more than to tear out a certain one-armed girl’s throat.

“Calm?”

“...Calm,” she muttered, and Bubblegum offered her a gentle smile, her animosity fading at the self-deprecating look in eyes once pinned, now dilated. Were it anyone else such displays would be unforgivable, but Marceline was different. In the half-demon’s eyes Bonnibel knew she would always take priority, and while the vampire was incapable of explaining why exactly that was such an irresistible compulsion the young scientist was not about to let that power slip through her fingers. The musician was paranoid and fiercely protective, but neither of these traits were necessarily bad things. Bonnibel just needed to learn to expertly wield that mentality in her favor.

She was a fast learner.

The first lesson: physical contact was enticing and so she reached out, cupping a grey cheek until the tension in her face relaxed. “Marcy… I know you’re worried about me, but you don’t need to be. She’s just a scared, troubled girl that needs a place to chillax until the Bath Boy Gang stops being a collective wonkus. Okay?” But the vampire wasn’t looking at her, may not have even heard her, because Shoko had just emerged from her tent and wandered off into the nearby woods. Even through a blackout curtain Marceline’s senses were never wrong, and the noises themselves were unmistakable.

A low-pitched growl emerged from the back of her throat. “She’s up to something, Bon, and I’m gonna find out what.” And then she was gone, the black-out curtain covering the tower ruffling before falling still. Bubblegum allowed a deep-seated, weary sigh. There would be no convincing her with logic-  _ but did I really expect that to work?  _ It was a difficult position to be in, and for a brief moment she found herself deeply concerned for Shoko’s safety, but shook her head to clear the thought as she lowered herself in her cot, wrapping her blanket around herself.  _ Marcy may be irrational and… more than a little bit violent, but she wouldn’t hurt her without my permission. She’s protective, not isolating. _

True as the sentiment was, this was not the first time Marceline had grown suspicious of a newcomer in Bonnibel’s life, and while the older woman could be over-the-top and almost territorial her judgments often had merit. After all, Marceline tended to be an excellent judge of character; it was one of the things Bonnibel liked most about her. She was insightful and observant, wise in her own twisted sort of way, the holder of little truths that were often overlooked by the scientist’s overly-analytical mind, such as people seeing only what they want to see and the past having a nasty history of repeating itself in ways that weren’t always obvious.

Bubblegum’s worries followed her into sleep.

By the time she woke up the apprehension had faded from her mind, mostly because she had grossly overslept, the black-out curtain having done its job and shielded her from the morning sun that so often acted as her alarm clock. With a frustrated groan the candy golem rolled out of bed, pausing to search for any sign that her wayward girlfriend had returned home after she had fallen asleep, disappointed to find none.  _ That’s… probs not good.  _ Although Marceline valued her alone time she also craved physical affection, something she vehemently denied out of deep-seated fear but that remained true all the same.  _ She probably just went to hunt some demons and blow off steam. Probs lost track of time. She’ll realize she’s being a ding dong and be back tonight… hopefully unburnt. Hear me, Marcy? You better be somewhere safe or… else! So… yeah! _

Without any time to spare the eventual-princess swiftly stored the curtain where it would be kept safe from the construction crew and equipment. She barely had time to dress, not bothering to change her outfit from the day before. It wouldn’t matter anyway; as much as she loved her children they probably wouldn’t recognize her without her tan vest and shirt over her brown, long-sleeved shirt. They were delightfully simple at times. All the times. She barely had a moment to re-braid her hair and pack up her black-out curtain before a banana guard tapped a blue stone. “Knock knock!” She sighed, turning to him and glad that her weariness wouldn’t be obvious to such a dense creature. “Yes?”

“My Leader, Shoko wants to know what you want her to do today.” Bonnibel allowed herself a soft smile. It was becoming increasingly obvious that the poor thing seemed confused by the very concept of not knowing one’s own purpose, and against Marceline’s better judgment Bonnibel found it endearing.  _ She just wants a place to belong, Marcy. You’re being ridiculous. Besides, she seems to genuinely enjoy helping me. She can help in the day while you help at night. If you could just learn to-  _ The scientist gave her guard a small nod. “Tell her I’ll be down in a minute and to just chill.” And then he was gone, leaving her alone once more.

Well, almost alone.   
  
“She’s a thief.”

Bonnibel almost jumped at the sudden voice, the musical tone she loved. Then her startlement gave way to confusion and she turned her gaze across the room. No vampire appeared and she frowned. “Where are you?,” she asked, baffled. After all, it was broad daylight, and there were only four things that could waste a vampire, the Sky Ball of Death included.

“Blackout curtain.”

The candy golem rolled her eyes at her own lapse of judgment, glanced around once more to be sure they were alone, then crossed the short distance to the once-folded-but-now-a-mess curtain, which was suspiciously less folded and organized than it had been a short time ago. As carefully as she dare she lifted the curtain, just enough to see the small grey bat, a tiny ball of fluff really, hiding within. It locked eyes with her, and it was only then that Bonnibel realized what she had said. She frowned.  _ This is absurd.  _ “Marceline, that’s a serious accusation. And how did you get in there?”

The half-demon ignored the question. “I asked around last night. She’s a thief, Bon. She’s playing you. You gotta kick her out before she does something messed up!”

Bubblegum took a deep breath, but it did nothing to calm her. Marceline’s protectiveness was quickly crossing the line between ‘charming’ to exasperating.  _ The only one doing something messed up is you and you know it.  _ “And what is your evidence, Marceline?” It was less of a question and more of a protest. Well, less of a protest and more of an assertion of dominance. “Because that’s a gonked up thing to accuse someone of unless you can prove it.”

“I told you, I asked around! She’s pretty well-known, apparently. Does all sorts of stuff for money.”

The scientist sighed in frustration, pinching the bridge of her nose in ire. “And who exactly did you ask?”

“Dude, all the sketchy peeps know each other. You just gotta know how to talk to ‘em!”

Bubblegum’s look was pointed.  _ That wasn’t an answer and this is getting out of hand.  _ “Marceline, stop it. Even if that  _ were  _ true - don’t look at me like that, I didn’t say I believe you - she was still attacked outside of my gate. I know because I saw  _ and  _ treated the wounds myself. They didn’t appear self-inflicted or suspicious, they looked like she was assaulted and was lucky to remain as intact as she is. She’s my guest until she recovers, and that’s the end of it. And, for the record, I  _ don’t  _ believe you. You’re being irrational and emotional.”  _ And not for the first time. _ “What could she possibly be after?” It was meant to be a rhetorical question, but was instead an opening for the half-demon.

  
“I dunno, Bon. You got a pretty nice lab all set up-”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Marceline. You and I are the only ones who know about that-” She stopped, then sighed, softening her tone.  _ Calm down, Bubblegum. She’s not trying to be a ding dong. She’s just scared, either for you, herself, or both. Not that this is an appropriate manner to express that…  _ But that would be a conversation for another day, after she had calmed down. After they had  _ both  _ calmed down.  _ Still… she needs to know that this isn’t acceptable behavior, and there’s only one reason she would be engaging in it.  _ Because Bonnibel knew,  _ knew,  _ that as much as her queen may deny it she was prone to self-destruction and needed a guiding hand. This was proof of that. “I understand that you’re jealous-”

Not her best choice of words. “JEALOUS?!,” she hissed. The fact she had managed to restrain her shout to a dull roar was a miracle in of itself. “I’m not jealous of some… whatever she is!”

Bonnibel narrowed her eyes at the affront to common decency and logic. “Marceline, you’re obviously jealous. It’s in your nature, and I accept that about you, but you need to understand that I cannot tolerate controlling behavior-”

“CONTROLLING?!” Now she wasn’t bothering to lower the volume of her shout, and it took the sharpest glare the candy golem possessed to force her into behaving once more. “Bonnie,  _ you don’t get it _ . You  _ can’t  _ get it! You’re young, you don’t know-”

“I know jealousy when I see it, Marceline.” Her tone was calm, but her heart was pounding.  _ I’ll need to learn how to control that. I know she can hear it and it’s too much of a liability. _ “You’ve said it yourself: you’re convinced that she’s attempting to take your place in our relationship some way, which doesn’t even merit a resp-”

Marceline hissed, baring her fangs. “This isn’t-”

-and while it’s true that I’m younger than you I’m hardly a child. I know enough to construct my own kingdom, to create an entire species-”

“And you’re smarter than you are wise!” It was something Marceline had once heard Simon say, and only now, in this moment, did she realize what it meant, because as much as a genius as she was Bonnibel Bubblegum was just too arrogant, too self-assured, too convinced she was infallible. It made her vulnerable and at this rate one day she would become a victim of her own hubris.

Evidently, though, Bonnibel already understood, or was at least quite good at pretending she did. “Marceline, you are trying my patience. I neither condone nor appreciate your behavior. It isn’t acceptable, and I’m not going to continue this conversation.” The bat opened its mouth, but a sharp glare flinched her into silence. As furious as she was even the musician had to admit that the younger woman could be terrifying when she was mad mad. That she had a dark streak that could rival her own. The vampire knew, in that tiny logical part of her mind that understood what ‘reason’ was in the strictest sense, that Bonnibel was the smartest woman she had ever met, maybe the smartest person alive, dead, or anything in between, that she was hardly naive about how the world worked. But Marceline knew that it only took one slip up, one mistake to cost someone everything. It was something she had personally experienced, and it was her goal to protect her girlfriend from suffering the same fate. But without meaning to she had relented, as she so often did, and Bonnibel kneeled in front of her, reaching out to scritch her ear. As if that were a fair reward for crumbling, for wrapping herself around a pink finger.

As much as she hated herself for it Marceline’s eyes slipped shut, a soft purr escaping her, taking her dignity with it. The display of affection just felt too nice, it was too calming. It was also an entirely involuntary reaction, a curse courtesy of her demon half, and Bonnibel smirked, knowing she won; her lover was just too sensitive to the influence of physical affection. It had always been the best way to entice her into behaving. She hoped it always would be. “Good girl. Now, this conversation is over. It’s day now. You don’t need to stay here if you don’t want to, but I strongly encourage you to do so, given the safety of your current location.” She tapped the black-out curtain with her free-hand, letting the obvious translation hang in the air: Stay put. 

When the hand withdrew Marceline blinked, dazed, then snapped back into focus when she realized what had happened. “What the flip-” A gentle kiss was deposited on her forehead, and though she made a grand show of trying to bite in retaliation, but that was all it was: a grand show. And so with one last pointed look to cover her shame Marceline burrowed deep in the soft curtain without a word, a silent admission of defeat as she ignored Bonnibel’s smug look in an attempt to lick her wounded pride. With a soft laugh that wasn’t entirely unkind the candy golem pulled on her boots, affixed her crown, and donned her amulet, the secret to some of her most powerful inventions. “Sweet dreams, Marcy,” she whispered softly, meaning it with every bit of sincerity, because as irate as she was with the queen you don’t stop caring about something just because they’re being a dink. And then she was down the stairs, leaving her girlfriend to her own devices.  _ Which better be sleeping. It’s far too late for her to be awake. _

By the time she was out of her stone tower Bonnibel’s relationship issues had been compartmentalized and shoved to the back of her mind. She still had one quick task to complete before she saw Shoko, and it took more care than she’d like to sneak into her laboratory, the one part of her kingdom that was already state of the art and fully operational. She’d have to work swiftly to avoid suspicion, but her task wasn’t exactly difficult. It was simple construction, really, with easily accessible materials that she had loads of. The schematics weren’t exactly the most difficult either.

From the moment she stepped foot inside of her laboratory, her natural environment, she got to work. Even the necessity of starting from scratch - drafting the schematics, harvesting the electrical components, soldering the metal - wasn’t a deterrent. If anything, it was a wonderful distraction from her overly-protective lover. She got to work, her stunted emotions quashed successfully in favor of a greater, more pressing task, which was completed while her body was on autopilot, muscle memory more than capable to complete her undertaking swiftly. With a self-satisfied smile Bonnibel stashed the finished product securely inside an inconspicuous box.  _ Oh! This is the perfect opportunity to… _

“Peppermint? Are you around here?,” she asked softly, not wanting to startle the poor dear. There was no response from her newest creation, a small candy child, but that was to be expected. He was still young, his mind almost literally a ball of mush. Unlike the rest of her children she had a very, very specific goal in mind for her youngest, and he would have to be raised with precision, for his destiny was to be her most faithful and loyal servant, her right-hand candy-man. She was already off track; the month prior Marceline had thought it the greatest idea in the world to try to drain the red from his stripes, and now the poor thing was reluctant to be anywhere he thought she might be. Which, given her ability to turn invisible, could be literally anywhere. She only hoped it wouldn’t leave any lasting mental trauma or prolonged ill-effect because the last thing she needed was to have her paramour and her servant at odds in any way for all eternity.

Just as she was about to call for him once more Bonnibel spotted a perfectly round, white and red mint-shaped head poke out from under her computer desk. She smiled and kneeled down, motioning for him to apporach. “It’s alright, Pep,” she soothed. “Marcy’s not here. And she’s very sorry that she tried to hurt you.”  _ She better be. I don’t need her losing control everytime she gets too hungry.  _ With a mental resolution to find a way to train her vampire out of that little ‘red-starved’ problem she reached out for the young candy, giving him her most loving smile. After only a brief pause he crawled out from under the desk. “Thank you. I have something I’d like for you to do.” He almost seemed to tilt his head, but curiosity was getting the better of him and she gingerly handed him the box. “Can you take this upstairs for me?” Peppermint stared, then smiled. “Awesomers. Thanks, Pep.” 

The candy golem watched him totter off with a warm sense of pride. It would be a while before he reached the exit of the laboratory, but it was important he complete the task on his own; as her butler he would be the highest ranked candy person in the kingdom, her right-hand mint, and it was important he learn to take on responsibility now, when he was still so impressionable. By the time she emerged from her second home Shoko was already waiting at the bottom of her tower’s steps, accompanied by her lovely tiger. It was certainly a refreshing sight to see someone so willing to help with her menial tasks, even if the day’s chores did consist of filling the radioactive river.  _ See, Marceline? She only wants to help. You’re being ridiculous. _

If Bonnibel hadn’t been convinced of the ridiculousness of Marceline’s assertions before Shoko’s second assault at the hands of a Bath Boy Gang member certainly cemented her opinion, though how the assailant made it up the mountain without being seen was a mystery. But the result was impressive; the girl, despite her noticeable handicap, successfully knocked the larger man unconscious, and she had done it all while burdened with the weight of the candy she was hefting and with only some slight bruising and a few gashes for her trouble. The Bath Boy Gang member had not faired half as well, and if his stagger as her guards had escorted him to the dungeons had been any indicator he would require some medical treatment before his extended stay.  _ Perhaps it will be nice to have someone around the kingdom who can fight without losing control…  _ There was only a touch of bitterness in that thought, just enough to give it some zest, before she felt the searing guilt.  _ That’s not fair, Bubblegum. It’s not Marceline’s fault. She’s trying her hardest.  _ It was unarguable though; not only had Shoko suffered a second assault in as many days she had done so with good nature and aplomb, brushing off all of Bonnibel’s concerns and redirecting all of her compliments.

It was refreshing. And it gave her an idea.

In truth, Bonnibel had hoped to activate her Gumball Guardians to greater fanfare. After all, they were a symbol of her greatest technological accomplishment to date, a living - so to speak - testament to her intellectual prowess and scientific ability. They were a signal of her potential as a ruler, and a silent deterrent against any would-be threats to her home, be they lone rogues or potential ally or enemy nations. But the more she considered the idea the more she thought better of it; it would be a stroke to her ego, yes, but it would also briefly reveal the inner workings of her secondary laboratory, a location that would need to be strictly controlled. Even if Marceline was right about Shoko-  _ not that she is of course  _ -the young woman would have no idea what to make of the laboratory, too sheltered to understand what it was she was seeing and why it was there.

The girl’s description of her childhood was disturbing at best. As the the pair descended into the laboratory’s sub-division Shoko regaled the scientist with tales of her youth, of her struggling to survive, and of meeting and befriending her animal companion. Although she gave no visible indication Bubblegum was impressed by her tenacity and adaptability, two traits she greatly admired in potential allies.  _ Does she remind you too much of yourself, Marceline?  _ Even Bonnibel knew the thought was acrid and unfair, but in the sanctity of her own mind she did nothing to correct it.  _ Even if it would explain why she’s jealous…  _ She allowed herself an internal sigh.

By the time Shoko had been presented with her hard-worked gift of a substitute arm and fled with it the hour had grown late, even by Bubblegum’s standards and she was sure, absolutely certain, that if she wasn’t back before Marceline was awake the older woman would tear the encampment apart looking for her.

She had always been one for overdramatics.

Besides, it was perhaps best to let Shoko alone for the evening. Something about the mechanical arm had been upsetting, and it seemed possible to the scientist that she had never received a gift, a legitimate present, before and didn’t know how to handle genuine appreciation. But it would have to wait until morning, after the girl had the night to think on it, after she had the private opportunity to calm herself. And so Bonnibel was free to return to her temporary bedroom, every step up her stone tower was a trudge, and the closer she got to the top the more she dreaded it. With a sigh she turned towards the sun, frowning when she caught it daring to set on her.  _ Great. Just what I need. Now she’s going to wake up, find out Shoko is still here, and throw a temper tantrum.  _ Mercifully, her internal groan stayed internal, and for one brief, wonderful moment she thought she would make it upstairs and into bed without being noticed.

But then… nothing ever snuck up on Marceline Abadeer.

“Look who’s back.”

A pink hand clenched into a fist, then relaxed. “Marcy, I’ve had a mega harsh day. Just let me get some sleep, alright?”

Marceline opened her mouth to argue… then stopped, closing it as she observed her girlfriend. Bonnibel certainly looked like she had a mega harsh day; her eyes had bags, her shoulders were sagging, and her gait indicated something unpleasant was happening with her back. The half-demon narrowed her eyes at that last one; hundreds of years in Bonnibel’s line of work meant that she was prone to developing muscle knots which would often trigger painful spasms, and based on the younger woman’s wince as she sat on her bed to undress that certainly seemed the case.

Marceline could pinpoint the exact moment she felt her resolve break.

With a sigh she flickered back to visibility and without waiting for permission - because when did she ever, really? - she floated behind the shorter woman, wrapping her arms around her waist, her weight settling on the cot. “Can I help out with this?,” she asked quietly as she placed a gentle hand on her lover’s back, just between her shoulder blades. It was a coded phrase; it had been decades since Marceline had begun courting the scientist, but the pink-haired woman’s unwillingness to show vulnerability - her inability to admit she even had any - was still something that reared its ugly head from time to time. To the candy golem’s relief the vampire didn’t take it personally, never did, probably never would. After all, she knew all about constructing thick emotional and mental walls, and she wasn’t hypocritical enough to blame her for it. Bonnibel had her own troubled past and may have brought her enormous burden and responsibility upon herself - what with founding an entire kingdom on her own, from scratch - but she still carried her burden well. So well, in fact, that she seemed to take great delight in ignoring her body’s cries to rest. The pair had lots of coded phrases to both of her benefits, and this one in particular gave Bonnibel the opportunity to ask for help with her muscle aches, her insomnia, her unintentional self-neglect without  _ really  _ asking for help. It was a careful rephrasing of the problem: rather than Bonnibel imploring Marceline to help Marceline was imploring Bonnibel to let her.

The about-to-be-princess nodded reluctantly. “...Yeah. You can help.”

In spite of the situation, the tension, the borderline animosity Marceline couldn’t help but smile. Yes, Bubblegum was being completely unreasonable about The Shoko Problem, and yes, that was almost definitely going to hurt her one day, but somehow, at the moment, those facts fell to the wayside because try as she might Marceline Abadeer was a creature of instinct, not of reason, and that deep, dark part of her where her demonic heritage lay in wait saw its lover as hurt, and that would always take precedent. Even if it was just an aching back. The half-demon nudged her shoulder with her cheek. “Hey… get comfy in your nightgown. I’ll rub out your back. Sound good?”

It did, it sounded amazing, but Bonnibel couldn’t help her suspicion.  _ Oh, so now you’re agreeable…  _ The thought was as bitter as it was unfair, and she knew it, even mentally apologized for it. No matter her methods Marceline was only trying to help and there were only so many ways she knew how to; unless they concerned her music they almost all involved violence in some way, shape, or form. Were it anyone else Bubblegum would be convinced there was some ulterior motive, and with a sudden sense of cold dread-  _ Is… is she trying to convince me to sleep so she can go after Shoko? _ She jerked away from her queen, catching her out of the corner of her eye as she went to retrieve her nightgown. All she saw was concern and love.  _ Calm down, Bubblegum. It’s Marcy you’re talking about. Yeah, she’s done some messed up junk, but she wouldn’t do that.  _ Of course,  she had no real reason to believe such a thing. She had seen no evidence whatsoever. In fact, she had seen the opposite; the musician could be positively sadistic when protecting the younger woman, a trait Bonnibel wasn’t ashamed to admit she enjoyed, at least to the vampire, and behind closed doors. There was just something delightful about having one of the most powerful beings in Ooo wrapped around her little finger, almost at her beck and call. Like a housepet.

Against her better judgment, she trusted the monarch.

After one final mental beratement Bonnibel swiftly changed into her night clothes, depositing her crown on top of the pile of her day clothes. Her amulet remained, as it always did. Once her grey nightgown slid over her head she turned back to her lover, unbraiding her hair as she returned to her bed. Her lover, who was waiting on the bed obediently. No sooner had the younger woman sat that the familiar pair of cool, strong hands gingerly touch her back. There was an involuntary flinch as there always was, courtesy of the vampire’s naturally cool flesh. Soon the flinch settled into a shiver as the calloused hands traced tight muscles, feeling the tension underneath. It wasn’t long before the younger woman found herself lying prone, happily dazed under Marceline’s skilled hands, the half-demon herself engrossed in her task of making sure the candy golem relaxed. 

By the time the last knot had been dealt with the sound of soft breathing was filled the open room, and the singer couldn’t help but smile, because  _ this  _ was what she was trying so hard to protect: her girlfriend, her best friend, happy and content, at peace and as de-stressed as possible. Was there a threat lurking down below with the rabble?  _ Definitely… but…  _ Slowly, carefully, Marceline floated off the small cot, gingerly pulling the blanket over the sleeping woman. _ I won’t let you hurt her, tranch. I won’t let you take her. But you get one night. One night, because Bon needs to sleep.  _ When she deposited a gentle kiss on her pink forehead Bonnibel stirred, then sighed softly before settling once more.

Adorable.

With great reluctance Marceline inched away from her girlfriend, begrudgingly willing to put her one-sided feud with Shoko on pause in the name of The Greater Good. But there was still the pent up energy to contend with, the rage that had taken up residence within her, an emotion that could not be logicked away. She could fight it, snarl, bite and claw in her frustration, but there would be no use; she was half demon, a creature of instinct, and it was screaming that her lover was in danger and she had the duty to end the threat.

But that would be the fastest way there would ever be to driving the candy woman away, and so in the name of The Greater Good she smothered every base urge she had, pulled away from Bonnibel, and took to the sky. Because there would always be that internal war, between rational civility and that darker part of her, and no matter what, despite everything she had seen, Bonnibel Bubblegum had never once thought of her as a monster. With one last survey of the room Marceline was gone, back into the night sky. Where her kind belonged.

It took a long time, far longer than she would ever like to admit, but eventually her eyes dilated, her posture relaxed, and she sighed her relief at the murderous tension leaving her body. The moon and stars always had that effect on her, soothing her just as often as she serenaded them. ‘Symbiotic’, that had always been Bonnibel’s word for it. The memory of the long-winded explanation made the vampire smile, and she perched herself in a tree overlooking the fledgling kingdom. After one last cursory glance Marceline rested her back against the bark, head rested in her hands, leg dangling from the side. It wasn’t often she napped in the moonlight, but the urge, the compulsion to protect, was too powerful to let her stray far from Bubblegum’s side. It sickened it her just as much as it relieved her.

Besides, she had shade, she had a nearby blackout curtain to duck into, and naps would always be totes cool in her book.

The shout roused her. She would know that voice anywhere, because it was the one voice her sensitive ears always strained to listen for, always ready to answer its call.  _ Bonnie!  _ Before she knew what she was doing her eyes had pinned, fangs extended and hands clawed talons, ready to tear someone in half. But the pleasure would be denied her, because by the time she had made it back to the castle it seemed the danger itself had already taken its course: Bonnibel sat on her bed, body slumped, head hung, eyes closed. One hand clenched the hem of her nightgown, the other clasping her arm.

“Hey Marceline.”

Marceline felt herself freeze. It wasn’t a greeting. It was an acknowledgement, a shorthand for so much sentiment, so much heartbreak. It was flat, strained, and so, so quiet. The scientist wasn’t even looking at her, hadn’t even opened her eyes. The vampire kneeled before her and immediately set to work checking for any sign of injury, any small wound. Any indication of who she needed to kill. When Bonnibel consented to being examined without so much of a mutter the musician’s worried intensified. “Bonnie? What happened?,” she asked softly. When she didn’t get an answer she lifted her hand to cup her cheek. Only then did her paramour open her eyes.

“...You were right.”

So much. So much sentiment, so much rage, so much said, so much unsaid with just those three little words. Something inside of the older woman snapped and she had only enough time to withdraw her hand before it was a claw once more. “I’ll kill her.” A soft whisper, with just a dash of tremor underscoring her fury, but before she could turn to the camp, to that tranch’s filthy tent, a weak hand grasped her claw, rendering it a useless hand once more.

“She’s gone. She fell into the toxic river. I sent my Guardians after her, but I haven’t added the radioactive coding…” She trailed off, still not looking at her vampire. If she had expected an ‘I told you so’, or taunting, or any self-satisfied vindication of any kind she instead got only silence.

“...I’ll kill her.”

Well, except for that. The hand pulled away, and by the time Bonnibel lifted her head Marceline was already halfway down the wall, keen eyes scanning the waste for any sign of Shoko. She sighed; there would be no reasoning with the half-demon when she was like this, and while she appreciated her efforts it wasn’t what she needed at the moment. “Marceline.”

The vampire froze, tearing her gaze away from the toxic river. “Bon?” The response wasn’t verbal, it was a morose smile, and it was enough for her to get the message. Search abandoned, Marceline returned to Bonnibel’s room, back to the bed she hadn’t moved from. Once more she kneeled before her. The last thing she needed was an imposing beast lording over her. Not after the conversation they had just had. “What happened?,” she gently repeated.

The scientist’s sigh was bone-deep. “...You were right. She just wanted my amulet. Jacked it when I was sleeping. She fell into the toxic river when I caught her.” Marceline’s eyes widened, and she cursed herself for leaving Bubblegum alone, for not following her instincts, for a hundred other things. But now two different compulsions warred within her, and she would have to choose: stay and comfort Bonnibel, or hunt down and destroy Shoko.  _ We don’t even know what she is! Toxic sludge could be a refreshing bath for her for all we know! _

But there was no contest, and within moments Bonnibel smiled weakly at the fluffy grey bat in her lap, hand stroking down her back when it pressed against her abdomen. Her free arm snaked around the puffball, drawing it even closer, allowing it to drain her of her warmth, even through her nightgown. It was oddly comforting, and it didn’t take long for a candy heartbeat to stabilize, gradually returning to normal. As the adrenaline wore off, as her mental reserves exhausted themselves, Bonnibel’s hand slowed, then stilled, and as carefully as she dared Marceline disentangled herself from her favorite person, resuming her normal form.

Bubblegum didn’t look at her. “Some brainlord, huh Marcy?”

The queen swallowed hard. It was too much. “Bon… don’t do that. You made a mistake. You’re not immune from that. Neither of us are, you know? We’ll find it.”  _ And when I find that tranch, however long it takes me, I’m going to annihilate her down to her soul.  _ There was no response to that. Nothing at all but the deafening silence of dissenting opinions. “Hey… it’s getting late. Why don’t I crash here?”

More coded language, more secret consenting, and as Bubblegum gradually lowered herself back to bed Marceline retrieved the blackout curtain, shielding the makeshift room from the Ball of Death, fully aware that her girlfriend was watching her every move, tense and uncertain. The moment the vampire was sure of her own safety she returned to the candy golem, sliding in next to her. As she nestled into the crook of her lover’s neck, feeling strong grey arms wrap around her, Bonnibel sighed, eyes closing. Only now was she beginning to feel okay, safe within her own room, her own bed. Already she knew what was about to happen, there was no question, no need to ask. Tomorrow Marceline would take it upon herself to track down whoever had sent Shoko. The next night, or perhaps the night after, the bloodbath would begin, and depending on how fargone her bloodlust madness would take her she may even present Bonnibel with heads or other appendages, proof of her kills, offerings to present her strength and worthiness. Gifts that Bubblegum would accept. Happily. With luck the other woman would find her amulet, the partner to the red one the candy golem had once gifted her long ago. With luck her hope wasn’t lost to the poison waste below.

_ You’re smarter than you are wise. _

A silent, bitter laugh as she curled deeper into her other half’s protective embrace.

_ Marceline always was an excellent judge of character. _


	5. Torch Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real Talk: So this was kind of an unplanned addition to Love Song. I was originally working on chapter 5 as an exploration of Sociopath Bonnie, but this idea hit me really hard, so I decided to turn it into a challenge for myself: can I convey emotion without being wordy by keeping the entire thing under a page? I know what I write tends to be long, and I want to get better at expressing heavy stuff without doing that so I can continue to grow as a writer.
> 
> The secondary challenge for myself was to actually write something that doesn't end up at least neutral, because pretty much everything I write ends happy because I'm a squishy sentimental person.
> 
> As another plug, if you aren't already you should join me on tumblr at CountingWithTurkeys. I put up a contest a few days ago and you could win a request fic from me while also helping dictate the future of the Symphony Universe! I also post blurbs there you won't find on here, and ask for your opinions on story ideas I have. You can also ask me stuff, because I love talking to you guys!

Were there any justice in the world Marceline Abadeer would love Bonnibel Bubblegum liked she loved the moon and stars. She would bask in her glow, just as she basked in the soft light of the night sky, be inspired to sing and play just as the cosmos bid her to. Her visits would inspire pure elation, untethered to mortal troubles. It would be timeless, it would be the most treasured staple of her endless life, it would be that which made it worth living.

But there was no justice in the world, and so Marceline loved Bonnibel as she loved the sun. Bonnibel’s glow was not one for Marceline to bask in, for even her radiant smile could scorch her flesh and render her crippled, her punishment for her wandering too close, for forgetting who she was. She could not sing and play with her, for Bonnibel’s stage was the waking world, her audience her citizens and well-wishers, all too terrified of what went bump in the night. Her visits were rare but that rarity did not turn them sweet. Instead they were like unpicked strawberries, left out too long, leaving Marceline’s hope to succumb to despair. Her troubles may not be mortal but they were no less real, and without the gift of mortality they would persist as long as she allowed them to, the cursed staple of her endless life.

Bonnibel belonged in the sun, where her intelligence could dazzle the world, where she could grow her children and build them a sturdy kingdom for a home. And so Marceline loved her like she loved the sun, that weapon in the sky glaring a light she dare not tread into, for Bonnibel’s very voice could chase away Marceline’s latent sanity, her bright eyes could inspire her to madness. Marceline loved her too fiercely to pull her into the dark, to deny her the light of the sun that gave her world strength, to take away her chance to grow and become who she was meant to be. Marceline needed the sun just as she needed Bonnibel, for both provided their own sort of sustenance that was vital to making sure she did not devolve into a soulless monster, but because both could destroy her she had to evolve to survive only on the scraps. Because Marceline Abadeer loved Bonnibel Bubblegum like the sun she left her alone, because her world was not one she could share, and though the two had once pretended otherwise love didn’t conquer all, it only feeds delusions and presents false hope.

The two never talk now, Bonnibel so engrossed in her light to notice Marceline shielded by her darkness. But every night, as Bonnibel sleeps, Marceline keeps a solid vigil on her palace’s roof, for just as Bonnibel protected her kingdom - that which she loved most - in the daytime so would Marceline protect Bonnibel - that which she loved most - in the night. Even when they did not speak Marceline was plagued with thoughts of what could happen to her Sun, what she could fail to protect her from if she failed in her duty.

The Moon would never be able to understand the Sun’s preoccupation with its creations and those reliant on it, for only the wild and unholy thrived in the moonlight. And it was because she didn’t understand and could only ever love her like the sun Marceline Abadeer spent every night perched invisibly on the roof of her Sun, wondering how beautiful she would look in the moonlight.

**Author's Note:**

> I realized yesterday that I hadn't written fan fiction in ten years (happy anniversary, me!), so I thought I'd give it another shot. I really needed to write this. Hopefully you really needed to read this.


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